Lost
by loveadubdub
Summary: Rose Weasley vanishes on her twelfth birthday, and her parents must come together to unravel the mystery of her disappearance and get her back.
1. Chapter 1

"Lost"

Everything in this story belongs to JK Rowling. None of it belongs to me, though I can allow myself to dream…

Chapter 1

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Rose was in her room pouting.

It seemed to be what she did best these days, preteen angst rearing its ugly head on a regular occasion. Puberty. What a joy.

"Does she plan on staying up there all day?" Ron asked, helping his son to balance both a plate of eggs and a glass of juice in his arms.

His wife simply shrugged. "I don't know," Hermione said bluntly. "And at this point, I don't care. If she wants to pitch a fit and miss her own birthday party, then so be it." With each word, she jabbed a quill to her parchment a little more roughly. She was sitting at their kitchen table working on a proposal, but Ron was sure that she was going to break her quill and spill ink all over herself at any moment.

It was Rose's twelfth birthday, and, as always, they'd spent weeks planning a huge party for her. The entire family was coming, of course, and this year, they'd even invited some of the friends she'd made during her first year at Hogwarts. It should have been enough to make her happy, but, of course, it wasn't. In the month that she'd been home from school, she'd taken up quite cozily with one of the neighbor boys and had spent most of her time running off about the neighborhood with him. When her parents had told her that she couldn't invite him to her birthday, she'd thrown a huge fit and screamed at her parents that they both hated her before bursting into tears and locking herself in her bedroom. Over the week that had passed since the row, she'd barely left her room, and when she had, she'd refused to speak to either of her parents.

Ron's head hurt thinking about it. He'd suggested that they plan two parties, the big one and then a smaller one with perhaps just Rose, Hugo, a couple of cousins, and Robby, the neighbor boy. Hermione had flat-out refused, though, stating that if Rose was going to behave like a spoiled brat, they were certainly not going to reward her with _two _parties. In fact, she'd even threatened to cancel the one, though Ron knew she would never actually go through with it.

It wasn't the first time that they'd run into a similar problem. In fact, Rose had had plenty of Muggle friends before, friends who couldn't join in on celebrations like birthdays. She'd always been easily enough appeased before, though- the temptation of a party being enough to overpower the fact that she'd have to leave a couple of people off of the guest list. This time, though, was completely different. This time, she was behaving as if someone were torturing her, destroying her life because one boy wasn't allowed at her party.

Ron couldn't help to think that none of this would be happening if they didn't live in the middle of a completely Muggle neighborhood. They'd moved here a couple of months before Rose had been born, mutually deciding that a Muggle neighborhood was the best option for giving their new baby, and any others that they might later have, a relatively normal upbringing. Not that Ron thought anything about a Muggle neighborhood was too normal, what with the abundance of cars on the streets and football games in the back yards, but that hadn't really been their main concern with the decision. Though, several years had passed between the war and the birth of their first child, they were still somewhat celebrities. It was still difficult for them to go out in public without a camera flashing or children asking for autographs. They didn't want their kids mixed up in all of that or, worse yet, feeling a sense of entitlement. Ginny and Harry had done the same thing and moved to a Muggle neighborhood two years earlier when they had their own first child, and while Ron and Hermione did not have to deal with the so-called "fame" to the same degree that Ginny and Harry did, they still felt it and did not want their children experiencing it anymore than was necessary.

They were all beginning to realize that maybe they hadn't made the best decision.

James had returned from his first year of school with his nose in the air and an attitude of importance that was enough to make anyone sick. Hogwarts had done little more than instill in him a sense of entitlement that was not at all becoming. It had horrified everyone and had taken some serious attitude adjustment on the part of his parents to get him to snap out of it. Now, two years later, both Al and Rose had returned with much the same attitude. It seemed as if sending them off unprepared for the pseudo-hero worship had been a bad idea. As a result, none of the kids had any idea how to deal with the sudden influx of celebrity and, of course, succumbed to it. It wasn't really their fault, but that did not make dealing with their attitudes any easier, nor did it completely excuse them.

Rose had been a nightmare ever since she'd returned, barking orders at her little brother and making ridiculous demands of her parents. When she did not get her way, she resorted to screaming and arguing, and both of her parents were almost at wit's end. Ron could imagine if he'd come home acting that way… he didn't even want to _think _about what his mum would have done. It was very lucky for Rose _and _her bum that Molly Weasley was not around enough to really witness her granddaughter's many meltdowns.

"Mum, if Rose doesn't come to her party, can I have all her presents?" Hugo looked up at her through thick eyelashes as he continued to shovel scrambled eggs into his mouth.

"Chew your food," Hermione instructed firmly, "before you choke. And no, you may not have your sister's presents. If she decides to act like a child and pout, we'll send them all back."

"Can I have her cake at least?"

Ron watched as the tiniest of smiles appeared at the corner of Hermione's mouth. "Yes, you can have her cake."

"Wicked!" Hugo shoveled several more forkfuls of eggs into his mouth and then drank the last of his juice in one gulp. "She'll be so mad!"

"I'm going to go see what her plans are," Ron said, smartly predicting that his son was very right. If they were to go on with her party without her, she'd likely have a meltdown large enough to crumble the entire neighborhood.

Hermione simply shrugged again, clearly nonchalant to the entire matter. He excused himself from the breakfast table and took the stairs two at a time until he reached the upper landing where both of the kids' rooms were. Rose's was at the end of the hall, and when he reached the door, he was not surprised to find it shut tight. Raising his fist to the wood, he knocked.

"Go away," came the immediate response. He'd expected as much and, ignoring his daughter's order, turned the handle. It was locked. Now a bit peeved, he tapped it once with his wand and muttered a quick spell. The door opened.

"I said _go away," _Rose said angrily from her spot on her bed. "This is _my _room, and you can't just come barging in here anytime you please."

"Actually," Ron said without missing a beat, "until you start paying some of the bills around here, this is _my _room. And until that time comes, you'd be smart to obey certain rules, such as no locked doors."

Rose rolled her eyes and flipped over on her side to face the wall opposite her father. "Leave me alone."

"I'm sorry, what?" Ron stared in only slight disbelief at his daughter.

"I said _leave me alone," _Rose repeated, this time louder and more clearly.

"You need to watch it," Ron said seriously. "I'd cut the attitude if I were you."

"Or what?" Rose asked immediately, though she still didn't turn around. "You're not going to do anything."

He didn't know when she'd turned into this, and he mentally kicked himself for the thousandth time as he realized that shielding her completely from the spotlight all those years had left her unprepared with how to deal with it.

"If you plan on joining us downstairs for your birthday, then you need to get up and get ready," he said, ignoring her previous comment. "Otherwise, we'll call everyone and tell them not to come."

"No, you won't," Rose said lazily. He stared at her in somewhat shock, surprised that she was so blasé about the entire thing. He noticed, not for the first time, how much she'd grown over the past year. She was several inches taller than she'd been when she'd left last September, and her hair was longer, the heaviness of it making her curls looser and less frizzy. She was still as skinny as ever, the added inches to her height only adding to the obviousness of this. He'd expected her to come back with a bit of weight on her, expected the Hogwarts feasts to have some kind of effect on her… but she was as thin as ever.

"Look, Rose," he said, crossing the room and standing over her bed, "I don't know what your problem is, but we're all about sick of it."

"What my problem is?!" Rose repeated incredulously as she rolled back over and stared up at him. "You treat me like a child! You just come barging into my room whenever you feel like it and then speak to me like I'm some kind of baby!"

"I already explained to you," Ron said, quickly losing his temper, "that you don't _own_ anything. This is _my _house and _my _room, and those are _my _clothes you're wearing and _my _books on those shelves."

"Then take them!" Rose screamed, sitting up at the exact same moment that several of said books went flying off of her shelf, nearly hitting her father in the back of the head. Luckily, he ducked just in time, years of Auror experience coming in handy.

Both Ron and Rose stared at the books as they lay in a pile on the floor where they had landed. Neither spoke for a long moment until Ron finally drew in a calming breath and posed a single question.

"Where is your wand?"

Wordlessly, Rose pointed to a spot on her dresser across the room. Ron turned to see the wand lying untouched in the exact spot she pointed to. "I didn't mean to," she whispered, guilt and fear evident in her voice for the first time in weeks.

"Get dressed," he said firmly. "You need to be downstairs in ten minutes."

He left then, shutting the door behind him. It wasn't the first time that something like that had happened. In fact, Rose had been achieving unintentional magic since she was a baby. It was a good thing, he knew, that she was clearly so powerful, but he worried, too, that she did not know how to control herself. It would be a trait that would prove to her disadvantage when she let her emotions get the best of her one day in class and caused an explosion because she was angry with a teacher or something of the like. He would get Hermione to work with her- something needed to be done, and Hermione was a much better teacher than he was.

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The party went off without too much of a problem.

Rose came downstairs and was, overall, pleasant enough to her guests. Hermione was pleased enough that she was no longer showing her worst side and was at least making an attempt to be nice. She was also pleased that Rose was socializing with _all _of her guests and not just sticking solely with Al as she had a tendency to do. It was something Hermione had worried about when they'd made the decision to invite some of her schoolmates. The family, of course, was used to the various cliques that the children engaged themselves in. All of the children in the family had their favorite siblings and/or cousins, and it was not unusual for them to break off completely from the group. Rose and Al had been their own clique almost since birth, and it was often difficult to get them to engage with other people. Hogwarts, though, seemed to have at least helped their social skills a bit, and Hermione watched fondly as Rose giggled in the backyard with three of the girls from her year. She was glad that she seemed to have made a few girlfriends; it was something that Hermione herself had never managed to do all that well. There was Ginny, of course, who Hermione had first become friends with almost by default, and there was Luna, too, who Hermione had grown extremely close with over the years. To this day, though, they were still really the only two females Hermione considered herself friends with; she got on well enough with the rest of her sisters-in-law and there were a few women at the Ministry with whom she enjoyed sharing a cup of tea, but she didn't really consider them _friends. _She had worried, after witnessing Al and Rose together for so long, that Rose would go to school and repeat her own childhood, having only boys for friends and not having any girls to confide to about, well, _girl things. _It appeared as if her worries were unfounded, though, as Rose had come home from school gushing about her roommates and writing them letters almost every day.

"Mum! Fred and James just put a dungbomb in the downsairs loo and moved a whole box of pygmy puffs to the backdoor!" Hermione turned away from the window and looked down to find Hugo and Lily staring up at her excitedly.

"Yeah, and Fred said he's going to let them into the house as soon as everyone runs outside because of the dungbomb," Lily supplied hurriedly. She shoved a bit of fringe out of her eyes as she spoke.

"They're hiding outside by the porch," Hugo quipped, answering Hermione's next question before she had a chance to speak.

"Thank you," she said swiftly, squeezing past them and marching straight out the front door and onto the porch. "You two," she said sharply, staring down at the top of her nephews' heads, "Up here, _now."_

It took only a second for Fred and James to untangle themselves from the bushes and join her obediently on the porch. Both looked a bit nervous, as though they knew they'd been caught and were trying to quickly come up with an excuse.

"We didn't do nothing," Fred said immediately.

"_Anything," _Hermione corrected irritably. "And I can tell you're lying." She grabbed each of them by the arm and marched them back into the house and to the downstairs bathroom. "Fix it," she said sharply, shoving them into the loo and watching closely as they opened the cabinet and carefully removed a dungbomb from the under the sink. James disarmed it as Fred held it nervously, both of them wrinkling their noses at the subtle stink that was already starting to fill the room.

"What's going on?" Hermione turned her head to see Ginny standing behind her. She heard James swear under his breath and turned sharply to stare at him. He smartly kept his head tucked and pretended as if he couldn't see her staring at him incredulously.

"Well," Hermione answered slowly, "it seems as if _someone _thought it would be funny to set a dungbomb off and then let an army of pygmies into the house."

Ginny shoved past Hermione and yanked James up by the arm. "I can't _believe _you!" she said incredulously. "And _you…" _She used her other hand to yank Fred up in much the same manner. "_George!"_

"Don't call George!" Hermione admonished, pulling Fred away from her. "He probably put them up to it."

Ginny seemed to agree and nodded. "You're probably right. _Angelina!"_

"Oh, stop with the screaming!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'm sure we can find her without alerting all the neighbors."

The four made their way out of the bathroom, the two adults still with firm grips on the children. As they walked back toward the kitchen, Ginny asked, "How'd you find out what they were up to?"

"Hugo and Lily told me."

"Those bloody gits," James muttered angrily.

Ginny immediately swatted him across the back of the head, "You watch your language, young man!"

"_Ow, Mum!" _James rubbed the back of his head irritably.

"What happened?" Ron looked half-exhausted as he made his way into the kitchen from the backdoor; George's six year old daughter, Roxanne, was perched on his hip.

"These two thought it would be funny to both set off a dungbomb in the loo and set a whole family of pygmy puffs loose in the house," Hermione said stiffly.

A smile twitched at the corner of Ron's lips, and she stared at him incredulously.

"Don't you dare laugh, Ronald Weasley," she warned seriously. "It's _not _funny."

"I'm not laughing!" he defended instantly, obviously putting forth a whole lot of effort to keep from doing so. "You two should be ashamed of yourselves," he added as last-minute proof that he did not find the situation humorous.

"Where's Angie?" Ginny asked, straining her neck to see out the window.

"George forgot the gifts, so they Apparated home to get them," he explained.

"Yeah, and left _me!" _Roxanne said dramatically.

"Yes, and left the munchkin," Ron deadpanned.

"I'm _not _a munchkin!" Roxie looked scandalized as she crossed her arms huffily. She burst into high-pitched laughter seconds later when Ron blew a raspberry against her cheek.

Ginny rolled her eyes at the display and turned back to the guilty culprits. "You two are _done," _she said firmly. "Both of you, _sit." _She shoved them off toward the kitchen table, and they both took seats obediently. "And don't either of you move," she warned. "I'm going to tell _your _father," she glared momentarily at James, "and _your _mother," the glare switched to Fred.

Ginny took off then, probably in search of Harry. Hermione glanced out the window and noticed she could no longer spot her daughter in the mix. "Have you seen Rosie?"

Ron shook his head, ducking a bit as Roxanne tried to retaliate with her own raspberry. "Not in awhile."

"Watch them," she instructed, swinging her head in the direction of Fred and James, both of whom were smirking slightly at each other. She left the rest of them in the kitchen and went into the garden. It was packed full of people, and she could barely hear herself think. She'd put a charm on the backyard before the party, making it so that her neighbors would not be disturbed by the noise, nor would they notice anything out of the ordinary, such as the twinkling lights floating midair and wishing her daughter a Happy Birthday, changing every so often to mirror the well-wishes of the guests in a sort of live-action birthday card. To outsiders, it would appear as a simple Muggle afternoon tea.

She still could not find Rose, but she spotted Al sitting by himself at one of the picnic tables they'd put up for extra seating. He looked tired and sullen, drumming his fingers against the wood with his head ducked.

Hermione joined him, sliding onto the bench beside him and ruffling his already unruly hair. "Hey, you."

Al looked up at her through a mass of jet black fringe that hung into his glasses, obstructing, she was positive, his already less than perfect sight. "Hey," he answered quietly.

"Have you seen Rosie?"

Al shook his head, "Not lately. Last I saw, she went off with Elisabeth and them."

"Where'd they go?"

Al shrugged. "I dunno. I think down the road."

Hermione was not surprised, as Rose had spent most of the summer running off 'down the road.' She was a bit angry, though, that she had taken off without letting anyone know- in the middle of her own birthday party no less.

"Why didn't you go with them?"

Al shrugged again. "I think they wanted to do girl stuff."

Hermione was not sure what girl stuff was, and she doubted very highly that she would get the answer from her daughter. "Well, Luna called a little while ago. She should be here soon with the twins. Maybe you can get a Quidditch game up?"

For what seemed like the millionth time, Al shrugged. "Maybe," he said quietly. "Where's Jamie?"

"He and Fred are in trouble." She rolled her eyes playfully as she relayed the story of the dungbomb and the pygmies. She succeeded in getting a small smile out of Al before she ruffled his hair once more and left in yet another attempt to track her daughter down.

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"I can't believe I got to meet Harry Potter…" Susannah Hending was speaking in an almost dreamlike voice as she followed her friends down the driveway.

"Oh, stop it," Rose said, clearly irritated. She was leading the group of girls away from her house and toward a much more desirable location.

"It's just cool," Susannah muttered, and Rose turned her head to glare at her slightly.

"He's my uncle," she stated flatly. "Stop drooling."

Rose, who had become the unspoken leader of their group at some point over the past year, succeeded in shutting down the Harry Potter fan club that seemed to be forming around her.

"I can't believe you have a _boyfriend, _Rose!" Elisabeth Richardson giggled as she practically skipped down the street.

"I can't believe you have a _Muggle _boyfriend," Meghan Thomas interjected, grabbing Elisabeth's hand and giggling with her.

"He's not my boyfriend," Rose said firmly, though the telling smile on her face betrayed her.

It was true, though. Robby Pinson wasn't her boyfriend. He was simply a boy she thought was cute who also happened to be very nice and liked to hang out with her. He was slightly older than she was, having turned thirteen in May. She was just now turning twelve, but she didn't figure that it was _too _much of an age difference. He had moved to her neighborhood in March apparently, and she'd met him after returning home from Hogwarts last month. She was eager to show him off to her friends, to make them jealous and impress them.

"Remember," she instructed the other girls in a very business-like manner, "nothing about magic, nothing about Hogwarts, nothing about _Harry Potter." _She glared once more at Susannah who said nothing, simply scowled a bit as she hung her head.

They reached Robby's house shortly, and Rose rang the doorbell confidently. She hoped that his mum didn't answer the door, though, as she wasn't exactly what Rose would term _friendly. _She was in luck, and Robby opened the door and stepped onto the porch.

"Hey, Rose," he said awkwardly, almost lazily.

She smiled, trying her best not to look too eager. "Hey, Robby."

They stared at each other silently for a moment, and Rose wanted to hex her friends when she heard a snigger behind her. "So," Robby said slowly, "what's up?"

"It's my birthday," she answered instantly, immediately replaying her words in her mind to see if she'd sounded dumb.

"Oh." Robby nodded. "Cool. Happy birthday."

"Yeah... Thanks."

Another silence. Rose wanted to die. They _never _acted like this when they were alone; she had no idea why conversation was so difficult when there were witnesses. "So, you having a party?"

Rose shrugged. "Sort of. My parents just invited my cousins mostly."

"These your cousins?" he asked, nodding at the other occupants of the porch.

"Old family friends," she lied. "Our parents grew up together."

It wasn't a _total _lie. Her parents had, at least, grown up with Meghan's father, her dad and Uncle Harry having had him as a roommate at Hogwarts.

"Cool." It seemed as if Robby couldn't think of anything more interesting to say. Rose was beginning to get embarrassed; this wasn't turning out to be the show-off that she'd planned at all.

"Well, just thought we'd say hello, we were just having a stroll," she said awkwardly. "Guess we better get back…"

"Yeah, okay," Robby said. He lifted his hand in a sort of half-wave at the girls. "Nice to meet you…"

Elisabeth giggled, and Rose wanted to punch her. She wished Robby a quick goodbye and hurried away from the porch as fast as she could.

"Well, he was cute," Elisabeth said, still giggling as she hurried to catch up.

"I thought you said he was cool," Meghan interjected warily. "He seemed pretty boring to me."

"That's because he felt weird around you lot," Rose answered huffily. "None of you tried to even have a conversation with him."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Meg and Elisabeth look at each other ruefully, as if they were having a silent conversation about how mean she was. But, as always, no one said anything. She was quite sure they talked about her behind her back, but they never said anything to her face. She didn't know if they were scared or what, as they never had any problems saying anything to anyone _else's _face. The fact that they were too afraid to say something to her sort of made her feel good; it made her feel powerful in a way.

Starting Hogwarts had been like a dream at first. She'd mostly grown up with Muggle friends- her playmates mostly consisting of the boys and girls in her neighborhood. She had a ton of cousins, too, of course, but in her family, she was simply number eight of twelve. No one ever saw her as anything special. To the kids in her neighborhood, she was overwhelming normal, and in her family, she was just "Little Rosie."

She'd grown up knowing, of course, that her parents were sort of important. They both had good jobs, and whenever they _did _happen out into the Wizarding community, she noticed that people tended to stare and whisper hurriedly to each other. It got worse when Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny were with them, but Rose never found this out of the ordinary- Aunt Ginny, after all, had been a very important Quidditch player before James had come along and ruined all of that.

Rose knew, though, that it wasn't all about Quidditch. She was very inquisitive and very well-read, and she knew that Uncle Harry had defeated Voldemort a million years ago; she knew, too, that her parents had done their fair-share in helping. The history books laid it out for her in black and white; she knew all about the war and the fall of Voldemort and all that stuff. But none of it ever really seemed like _that _big of a deal. If someone in her family talked about the war, it was usually in reference to her Uncle Fred who, she knew, had died during the Battle of Hogwarts. Or sometimes they talked about Teddy's parents who had also died. When the war was mentioned, no one ever made a big deal about her parents or even about Uncle Harry, it was always about the people who had died while fighting- people Rose had never met and would never have the chance to know. To her, names like Fred, Tonks, Remus, Dumbledore, Snape, and Sirius all sounded like fairy-tale characters- people she knew stories of by heart and people after whom some of her cousins were named, but of whom she had no _real _knowledge.

When she got to Hogwarts, though, her whole life seemed to flip in an instant. She wasn't, as she'd feared, Weasley Number Eight. Instead, she was _Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger's daughter. _Al was not, as he'd always been, the middle child- he was _Harry Potter's son. _James was only a third year, and Rose realized straight away that he was probably the most well-known student in the entire school. He had a million friends and even more girlfriends, and it wasn't long at all before she and Al started receiving the same sort of attention. _Everyone _wanted to be her friend; people from every House flocked to her at the breakfast table and tried to chat with her. Her classmates fought over who would sit close to her during lessons. It was _amazing. _It did get old, though, rather quickly- having to tell stories of her parents over and over again, especially since they'd never really shared any personal stories about the war, which was what everyone seemed to want to hear. She took her cue from James, though, after hearing him tell a story about his dad rescuing an entire village from a Banshee when he was twelve and just started making things up. Al did a bit of it, too, and they would often take turns telling pieces of a made-up story to their housemates, all of whom would sit listening intently, oohing and ahhing every once in awhile. It was insane.

Rose was, without a doubt, the leader in her dorm. She found out rather quickly that her roommates would take orders from her, and she wasted no time in telling them what to do. She'd always had bit of a bossy streak, but usually when she tried to order people around, they just ignored her or, in her parents' case, let her know exactly who would be doing the ordering and who would be doing the obeying. Bossiness was one of her worst traits, and she couldn't count the number of times she'd ended up in trouble for trying to make Hugo and Lily or one of the other younger kids do something they didn't want to do. It was amazing then to finally find people who would let her boss them around willingly. If any of them had a problem with it, they never said anything- at least not to her face. So she simply didn't care.

"So, Rose," Meghan cut into her reflections slowly. "When do you think you'll get round to snogging Robby?"

"He's my _friend," _she said firmly, reiterating the fact that he was not her boyfriend and that she would, therefore, _not _be snogging him. She'd never kissed any boy, and she was quite sure that her friends knew as much. None of them had. She did, if she was truthful with herself, have a bit of a crush on her neighbor, and she did enjoy the fact that he paid attention to her. She'd been awfully bored ever since she'd gotten home from school the month before, had felt herself go back to extraordinarily normal rather quickly.

She'd gotten into more than a few arguments with her parents about her newfound attitude, and her mum had threatened her over it on several occasions. However, she hadn't followed through on any of them. Rose wasn't quite sure what was up with that, as her mother had always been rather strict and had kept a close eye on both her and her brother their whole lives. Lately, though, she just seemed tired, exhausted almost. She worked a lot of hours at the Ministry, but she'd always worked more than she should. She just seemed as if she didn't have the energy to put into much of anything lately. Her father, of course, would do nothing. He'd never really disciplined them much, had always let them get away with pretty much anything as long as their mum wasn't around. So all in all, she'd realized that she could _do_ pretty much anything without having to be afraid of any consequences.

"You know what I think?" Susannah spoke up for first time since she'd been chided for her Harry Potter worship.

"Actually," Elisabeth said snidely, "no one cares what you think."

She and Meghan giggled, and Rose felt a little pity for Susannah. It wasn't as if she was completely innocent when it came to being rude to people, and she'd been known to make the occasional rude comment to Susannah herself. However, she also felt bad for her in some ways, and she knew she should make a conscious effort not to be so nasty. Susannah tried desperately to fit in with her roommates, but it was no secret that she was at the bottom of the chain of command.

Rose was just about to ask Susannah to continue her thought, but she was interrupted by Meghan.

"Why is that man staring at us?"

All four girls stopped walking momentarily to turn and view the man to whom Meg was referring. He was tall and very thin, dressed in gray trousers and a navy blue shirt. He wasn't really doing anything, just standing in the yard across the street watching them. Rose felt a shiver go down her spine as she made brief eye contact with him.

"Come on," she whispered quickly, "let's go home."

Her friends all followed immediately, and they took off with a fast walk back in the direction of the house. Rose didn't look back, but she couldn't shake the feeling that eyes were still bearing into her back. She was too afraid to turn around and confirm her suspicion, so she just kept hurrying home.

Just as she was about to turn up the side street by her house, though, she felt a strong stinging in the back of her head. Before she could even register the pain, though, her eyes started clouding over.

A moment later, her entire world went black.

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Hermione broke into a run as she ascended the hill of her driveway. Something was wrong, she knew it. She could feel her heart start to pick up beats as she increased her pace, but she didn't even stop to breathe.

The backyard was still filled with people and noise. Her entire family was there, but she couldn't seem to find the one person she was looking for. She pushed through a crowd of people and hurried toward the backdoor.

"Hermione, I thought you'd run off!" Luna was filling her plate with food from the buffet style table. "I haven't seen you all afternoon."

"Have you seen Ron?" She ignored Luna's statements and asked her own question breathlessly.

"No, not in awhile. Why, is something wrong?"

Hermione shook her head quickly. "I don't know. I can't find Rose."

Luna's eyes narrowed in slight worry. "Are you sure she isn't playing?" She nodded toward the impromptu Quidditch game that had taken off behind them.

Hermione turned quickly to follow Luna's gaze, and they scanned the sky together. Al… James… Lysander… Lorca… Fred… Lucy… No Rose.

"Excuse me," she said quickly, shoving past Luna and hurrying into the house. She walked straight into a conversation between her father and her father-in-law.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Arthur stopped right in the middle of his question about lawnmowers. "You look rather flushed."

"I… I can't find Rose," she stuttered, finally pausing to fill her lungs with air.

"What do you mean you can't find her?" Arthur shook his head. "I saw her going off with her friends awhile ago, down the driveway."

Hermione nodded and pushed her hair out of her face. "I know, but I've been all over the neighborhood and I can't find them anywhere… I, I don't know where… Do you know where Ron is?" she asked desperately.

Her father rose from his chair and crossed the kitchen over to her. "He's in the sitting room with Hugo and some of the kids." He placed a hand on her arm. "I think you should sit down."

"No," she said quickly. "No, I'm fine. Thank you," she added quickly, rushing out of the kitchen and through the house to the sitting room. Just as her dad had said, Ron was sitting on the floor playing a game of chess against both Hugo _and _Lily. Roxanne and Louis were watching the match intently. All five of them looked up when Hermione rushed into the room.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked instantly, eyeing what she knew were her flushed cheeks and watering eyes.

"I need to talk to you," she said quickly, silently communicating that it wasn't something that could be discussed in front of the children.

Ron got up immediately and followed her out of the sitting room and into the hallway. "Hermione, what is it?"

"Something's wrong," she blurted out, looking at him desperately. "I can't find Rosie, and I've looked… I've looked everywhere, and she's nowhere. And I just know, I _know _something's wrong."

Ron did not ask her anything else. He did not tell her she was overreacting or suggest that she sit down and have a drink of water to cool herself off. He simply looked at her silently for a few moments and then nodded.

"Okay," he said calmly, taking her hand in his own. "We'll find her."

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Please review and let me know if I should continue. Thanks!!


	2. Chapter 2

LOST

Chapter 2

Any and all characters in this story belong to JK Rowling. I own next to nothing and certainly none of this!

--

Susannah Hending, Elisabeth Richardson, and Meghan Thomas were found at approximately 9 PM the night of Rose's birthday.

Henrietta Kibbon found them sleeping in her cabbage garden as she took her pug, Bitsy, out for his bedtime potty. Mrs. Kibbon was an elderly lady, eighty-two to be exact, and she claimed to have nearly had a heart attack after finding "a mob of rowdy teenagers getting up to no good with my vegetables!" As she lived just two houses down from the Weasleys, Ginny heard the noise and rushed down the street to collect the children quickly while calling the rest of the search party back to the house.

All of the girls' parents had been summoned, and they were none too happy about the fact that their children had disappeared at a birthday party while supposedly under plenty of adult supervision. The girls didn't remember anything, all of them claiming their last memory of the day to be the cake that they'd eaten soon after arriving at the party. They did not appear to be hurt in any way, though it was clear that they'd had their memories modified. Ron had wanted to do some reversals on them to see if they could find any clues based upon the charm used to wipe their minds, but their parents absolutely refused. The Hendings and the Richardsons left huffily, coddling their daughters and threatening legal action.

Ron had scoffed at them and yelled after them that the only legal action they'd be seeing would be the Ministry knocking on their door with warrants for interfering with a legal investigation. Hermione sat with her head in her hands and said nothing.

Dean was the only parent who offered to help. He said he'd bring Meghan by in the morning after she'd had a chance to calm down so that she could be questioned and examined. Meghan was hysterical by that point, crying and begging to go home, so Ron had simply shook his head and said they'd be in touch.

The search party worked nearly all night, scouring the neighborhood for any sign of anything. The only lead they found at all was Robby Pinson who claimed that Rose and the other girls had come to visit around 2 and said they were headed back home. It wasn't even really a lead at all, simply something that could have been easily deduced. Neither the Ministry nor the Muggle police would do anything to help until at least twenty-four hours following the disappearance, so that left them to do their own searching. It wasn't as if they didn't have plenty of help, as nearly the entire family stayed to help, taking turns in shifts of going out and looking while a few stayed behind with the kids.

They decided to call it a night around 3 in the morning, and everyone went home, promising to be back first thing after the sun came up. Harry and Ginny offered to stay, of course, claiming they weren't tired and would keep looking if they needed them to. Ginny's yawn betrayed her, though, and Ron told them to go home and sleep. They left through the Floo, James and Al half-asleep and nearly falling over and Lily passed out cold in Harry's arms. Ron watched them leave and turned around to find Hermione gone.

A brief wave of panic hit him, and he rushed through the house looking for her. She was in the sitting room trying to lift Hugo from the floor. He was now the lone child where earlier there had been several sleeping children all tucked in one room as if they were camping out. She was having quite a bit of trouble getting him anywhere, though, as he was sleeping heavily and therefore a very heavy dead weight.

Ron went over and helped her, managing to get Hugo off the floor and slinging him over his shoulder. The room was a mess of blankets and pillows, and Ron could tell Hermione was about to start cleaning.

"Leave it," he said, before she had a chance to even think it. He watched as she bent down and picked up what appeared to be a pale green headband from under a blanket. "Whose is that?"

"I think it's Lucy's," she said quietly, referring to Percy and Audrey's youngest daughter.

"They'll be back tomorrow," he said, knowing that she was about to call them to let them know the headband wasn't lost. "I'm sure they won't miss it."

She nodded and carefully set the headband down on the end table.

Ron turned and headed toward the hallway. Just as he was about to head up the stairs, though, Hermione stopped him.

"No, put him in our room," she said quickly. "I want him with us."

One look at her, and he didn't even have the heart to argue. He knew what she was doing, trying to create a false sense of security, imagining in her mind that nothing could happen to Hugo if he was there with them. He wasn't going to tell her differently, decided it was best just to appease her.

Without anymore conversation, he turned back into his own bedroom and gently lay Hugo down on the bed. Hermione pushed past him and started fussing, moving an extra pillow under Hugo's head and tucking the covers in around him, apparently forgetting that both she and Ron were expected to sleep in that bed, too. He didn't say anything, just let her do what she needed to do.

When he was positive that Hugo would suffocate if wrapped anymore tightly, he gently placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her away. When she turned around to face him, he noticed that she was quite pale and clammy.

"Are you alright?" He placed a hand to her forehead.

"I… I'm just…" Without finishing her sentence, she rushed past him and into the adjoining bathroom. Ron heard the sounds of sick before he saw them. When he found her, she was resting her head against the toilet bowl, the strong stench of vomit filling the small area.

He gave her a few moments to rest before helping her to her feet and flushing away the mess. She still looked a bit unsteady as she brushed her teeth and got ready for bed, and he helped her to lie down and get settled.

"Where're you going?" she asked sleepily as he turned toward the door.

"I'm not tired, I was going to go back-"

"No," she said firmly. "Lie down."

He was not going to argue with her. He figured the least he could do would be to appease her while she fell asleep. Once she sleeping, he could go back out unnoticed.

He took off his shoes and lay down without bothering to get undressed. He didn't even complain that Hugo had his pillow or that he barely had room to fit in the bed.

"What if we don't find her?" Hermione's whisper half-startled him. He was surprised she had enough courage to even ask such a questioin.

"We'll find her," he assured her. "She probably just wandered off."

"She didn't _wander off, _Ron," Hermione huffed. "She's twelve, not two."

"We'll find her. Tomorrow when the sun's up, don't worry. Just try to sleep."

Silence surrounded them for several moments, and Ron was just about to get back up and sneak out. He heard Hermione whisper three words that stopped him, though.

"I love you."

He could barely make her out through the darkness, but he saw that her breathing was steady and her eyes were shut peacefully. She was as good as asleep.

"I love you, too," he whispered back. Suddenly sleepiness overtook him, and he succumbed to it.

--

Hermione woke up alone.

Her immediate reaction was to panic. Where was Hugo? Where was Ron? The events of the night before came rushing back to her instantly, and she sat straight up. A second later, though, she recognized the smell of bacon frying and something baking. The clock by her bed read 9:47 AM, and she wondered how she'd managed to sleep so late. Getting out of bed and tying her robe together, she yawned as she left her bedroom and walked toward the kitchen.

She expected to find Ron cooking by the stove and Hugo at the kitchen table, so she was quite surprised to find Victoire doing the cooking and not just Hugo at the table, but Dominique and Louis as well.

"Good morning!" Victoire said brightly, smiling and hurrying over to hug Hermione tightly. "I've made breakfast for everyone, here!" She shoved a plate of bacon and eggs into her hands and steered her toward the table.

Not wanting to hurt her niece's feelings, Hermione sat obligingly at the table in an empty seat between Hugo and Louis. She watched as Victoire placed plates in front of the children with a single wave of her wand. The plates landed flawlessly, and Hermione glimpsed the small self-satisfied smile tugging at Victoire's lips.

Victoire had graduated from Hogwarts less than a month ago, and she was taking the summer to think over her options and decide where she wanted to make her career. She had a few things in mind, but it was no secret that the top thing on her mind was romance. Teddy Lupin to be exact. Hermione was not surprised, and she doubted anyone really was. Victoire had never lacked in male attention, as she was overwhelmingly quite beautiful. All of Bill and Fleur's children were, unsurprisingly. They all had striking light blue eyes, and Victoire and Louis both had their mother's silky blonde hair. Dominique's hair was a wonder all in its own, red streaked with natural blonde highlights. They were just a very gorgeous set of siblings, so it was no shock that Victoire, and now Dominique, got a lot of attention for their looks. Victoire and Teddy had grown up together and had spent much of their childhoods getting into trouble together. Hermione wasn't sure when any of that had turned romantic, but she knew from firsthand experience how friendship could change to something much different.

She hadn't noticed Victoire leaving the room, but she did notice her returning with Bill, Fleur, and Ron in tow. She handed them all plates, and Hermione watched as several new chairs magically appeared at the table.

"Did you sleep okay?" Ron sat beside her and looked at her worriedly.

She shrugged and took a sip of the water in front of her. "I can't believe it's so late."

"I think everyone is getting a late start zis morning." Fleur was busying herself with making sure Louis's shirt was protected, much to what appeared to be his own chagrin.

"Fresh croissants!" Victoire said proudly, closing the oven with her foot and bringing over a tray of piping hot pastries. All of the children dove for them, and Fleur smiled at her daughter.

"Zey look very good, Victoire!" Hermione figured that they were made from an authentic French recipe, given the fact that Fleur looked so impressed.

They did _look _good, but the smell was nearly overpowering. Hermione's head was pounding, and she felt ill.

"Aren't you hungry?" Ron asked lowly, and Hermione shook her head.

"No, not really," she gulped at her water. "It looks delicious," she assured Victoire, not wanting to hurt her feelings. "I'm just not feeling very well. I think I'll just go have a shower." She excused herself from the table, fighting back tears she didn't want to fall. Waves of nausea filled her as she hurried back to her bedroom, willing herself not to break down and cry. She couldn't think about anything except for Rose, and before she could stop herself, she was throwing up again. She felt like she wanted to pass out, literally sick with worry.

The shower did not do much to calm the ill feeling that was still overpowering her, but she knew she couldn't dwell on it. Giving into the sickly urges would do nothing to find her daughter, so she got dressed quickly and joined the others back in the kitchen.

Breakfast was over, and she found the room now filled with more people than when she'd left. Harry and Ginny had arrived, along with George and Angelina. They were sitting at the table with Ron, Bill, Fleur, and Dominique. Hermione glanced out the kitchen window and saw Hugo, Al, James, Lily, Fred, Roxie, and Louis playing some type of tag kind of game.

"Where'd Victoire go?" she asked, feeling slightly guilty about running out on her niece's breakfast.

"She went to Teddy's," Bill said, a look of fatherly uneasiness evident on his face. "She said they'd be back shortly."

Hermione nodded and shoved a few strands of still wet hair behind her ears. She glanced around, knowing she'd interrupted an in-process conversation. Harry and Ron were beside each other, both hunched over what appeared to be a map of the neighborhood and the surrounding areas. She was hit with a sudden wave of nostalgia as she looked at the pair of them, and a million memories of the Gryffindor Common Room and the Marauder's Map came flooding back to her.

"What are you doing?" She walked over and squeezed herself between them, sitting halfway on both of their stools.

"Well, if Rose wandered off and got lost, she can't have gotten very far," Harry explained. "She would have gotten tired and had to stop, so she'd have to still be somewhere in the area." He motioned toward the map as he spoke.

"But she didn't wander off," Hermione said assuredly. "She's not a baby, she wouldn't have just gotten lost."

"We have to think of all the possibilities," Harry said quietly.

"But that's stupid," Hermione shook her head. "You know she didn't just wander off."

"Hermione-" Ron tried to speak up, but Hermione cut him off.

"No, you know it's stupid, too," she looked at him incredulously before turning back to Harry. "What do you think? She ran off with her friends, they got lost, three of them decided to have a nap in a neighbor's garden, but Rose decided she wasn't that tired and could go on for a few more streets?"

Harry looked at her. She knew she was being rude and that he was having to work at controlling his response, but she didn't care. "Hermione, it's not going to hurt to keep looking. _If _she did get off by herself, she'd still be around here somewhere."

"We looked all bloody night," Hermione answered roughly.

"And it won't hurt to look again," Bill interjected.

Hermione looked around the table and could tell that everyone seemed to agree. She was being ganged up on, and she knew it. "Fine," she conceded. "Let's go."

"We need to plan a split up," Harry said, motioning once again to the map.

Hermione literally had to force her eyes not to roll into the back of her head.

"Dominique and I can stay here with ze children," Fleur offered, and Dominique nodded her agreement.

Harry went on, "Okay, then Ron and I can take this area-" He started to highlight an area of the map with his wand, but Hermione interrupted him.

"That doesn't make any sense for the two of you to be together." Harry just looked at her. "You two are the only ones with Auror training, why would you be together?"

"Hermione, it's the largest area," Ron broke in. "We can cover it the fastest."

She knew the real reason. The real reason was that no one else seemed to think Rose was in any real danger; apparently everyone was under the ridiculous impression that she was simply lost in the neighborhood she'd spent her entire life learning her way around.

She was about to protest again when the backdoor opened, and Fred and James entered, both red-faced and sweating. They immediately grabbed glasses and filled them with water, gulping heartily.

"Are you going to look for Rose?" James asked, wiping his forehead.

"Yes," Ginny said. "Now you two go back outside and play."

"Can we help?" James quipped eagerly. Hermione found this odd, as it was no family secret that James and Rose got on, well, less than perfectly.

"No," Ginny shook her head. "We need you to help keep the little ones out of the way."

"It might not be a bad idea," George spoke up for the first time since Hermione had come in from her shower. "I can take them with me."

"They're too young," Ginny argued, sounded remarkably like her mother in an almost eerie imitation.

"We're not!" Fred protested. "I'm fifteen!"

"And I'm almost fifteen!" James finished. This was not entirely true. James would not be fifteen until December, and it was just July. However, no one pointed this out to him. They were, however, about to start their fourth and fifth years, respectively, at Hogwarts, so they certainly weren't babies by any means.

"Fine," Harry said, ducking his head and avoiding the immense glare Ginny was giving him. "James and Fred can go with George, and they can take this area." He highlighted the map again. "Bill and Ginny can go here…" He covered the last area and finished with, "And Hermione and Angelina can take this area."

Everyone nodded their agreement, and Hermione wondered why any of them were stupid enough to think this would be effective. They were not going to find Rose skipping through the neighborhood playground, and she didn't know why everyone was pretending like it was a possibility. Still, though, she kept her protests to herself as everyone got up to go their respective ways.

She and Angelina were in charge of an area outside of the neighborhood, so they Apparated the short distance and then took the rest of it by foot.

"How're you doing?" Angelina asked her gently as they walked through the slightly unfamiliar territory.

"My daughter's missing," Hermione answered bluntly. "And no one seems to think there's anything to worry about."

Angelina didn't speak for a few moments, and they walked in silence. "I think everyone's just trying to take every precaution," she said carefully.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, they all think I'm overreacting. I can tell exactly what it is, and it's infuriating."

Angelina reached for her hand. "We're going to find Rose. And everything's going to be fine."

Hermione wanted to scream, but she didn't have the strength.

--

Harry was exhausted.

The split up and look for Rose plan had proven to be less than successful. After meeting back up at the house, they'd all exchanged stories of anything they had found, which amounted to a blue barrette found by Ginny and Bill that Rose may or _may not_ have been wearing the day before. Harry had shaken his head in disbelief that there were absolutely no clues, and Hermione had given him a very familiar _I told you so _sort of look that made him feel about fourteen years old. It was infuriating really, but Harry knew better than to say anything to her. He could tell she was on edge and could just imagine the moment she snapped. He didn't particularly want to be the guest of honor at that event, so he just ignored her.

Thankfully, Ginny had distracted her and managed to get her into the kitchen for a cup of tea. Bill and Fleur left but promised to return later, and George and Angelina offered to take all the kids to the Burrow to get them out of the way. Most of the kids had jumped at the chance, but Al had insisted on staying behind. He'd been withdrawn all day, Harry had noticed, sitting out on the games that the other kids were playing and looking quite lost as to what he was supposed to be doing with himself. He simply sat quietly by himself and got lost in the scenery.

In fact, Harry had even forgotten he was sitting in the room as he and Ron discussed the facts.

"I think we need to be realistic," Harry said, forcing himself to voice a concern he'd wanted to keep hidden for as long as possible. Ron just looked at him, his eyes weak with obvious exhaustion. "Someone may have taken her." Harry had to force the words out, and he looked away almost immediately so that he didn't have to see Ron's face.

It took Ron several long moments to answer, and when he did, his voice was low and emotionless. "Death Eaters."

Harry shook his head, refusing to even entertain the notion. "The last known Death Eater activity was fifteen years ago, Ron."

"So? They were probably just sitting by biding their time."

"Why would they suddenly be back?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't know. Perhaps they want to have a big twentieth anniversary hoorah."

"What would they want with Rose?"

Ron scoffed at him. "I reckon she's your niece…"

Harry shook his head again, "That makes no sense."

"It makes perfect bloody sense."

"Look," Harry shot back immediately, "if that's what they wanted, they would have gotten James or Al or Lily, not Rose."

"Do you think they'll come after us, too?" Harry and Ron both stopped talking immediately and turned to see Al, still sitting quietly in his chair, though now he was completely pale and frightened.

Harry glanced at Ron who looked both worried and now a little ashamed that they'd clearly frightened Al. Harry took the lead and shook his head. "No, mate, nobody is coming after you, I promise." Ginny was going to kill him, he was positive of it. Al was definitely the nervous child in their family, and as such, Ginny was very serious about making sure that no one caused him unnecessary worry.

He was just about to suggest that Al run into the kitchen and see if he could score some biscuits when the fireplace suddenly set ablaze, and Dean Thomas stepped out with his daughter in tow.

"Hey, Meghan," Al said quietly, and Harry noticed how Meghan's face went from completely terrified to just a little more at ease when she noticed a familiar classmate in the corner.

Deciding to follow up on his previous instinct, Harry said, "Al, why don't you take Meghan into the kitchen and see if you can find some biscuits."

The children wasted no time in scurrying out of the room. Dean sat down in an armchair across from Ron and Harry. "Any luck?" he asked, settling back into the cushions.

Ron shook his head. "Nothing. Did Meghan say anything?"

"She says she doesn't remember anything. I had to fight Jessie to get her back here." Jessie was Dean's wife. Harry had only met her a few times, and he'd never been particularly impressed, as she seemed rather stuck up and boring.

"I don't know what could have happened," Ron said, suddenly sounding completely dejected. Harry looked over and could tell the worry was about to overtake him.

"You can do whatever reversals you need to do," Dean offered carefully. "I trust you."

Harry was about to thank him, but the door to the sitting room burst open and Hermione came rushing in.

"Did Meghan think of something?" she asked breathlessly, not even pausing to greet Dean before she ambushed him.

"She doesn't remember anything," Ron said quietly, reaching for Hermione's hand and tugging her down into the seat with him.

Hermione looked crestfallen, and Harry noticed tears starting to pool in the corner of her eyes. "Where is she?" she whispered, her voice heavy with desperation.

Dean looked even more uncomfortable than Harry felt as the tears finally spilled from her eyes, and she hid her face in her hands. Ron had both arms around her and pulled her back against his chest. She went willingly, and Harry looked away as her body trembled with a little sob.

"Look," he said firmly, wanting to break through the awkwardness for all of their sakes, "we'll do the reversal on Meghan. At least we can find out what modifier they used, and maybe we can put something together from that."

Ron didn't reply. Harry wasn't even positive he'd heard him as he was currently whispering something to Hermione. Harry watched as she gave a little nod but didn't look up from her hands.

Harry was still amazed by them sometimes, still had difficulty sometimes wrapping his head around the fact that they were married. Things hadn't changed much over the years- they still fought like crazy ninety percent of the time and spent the other ten engaging in a ridiculous amount of quiet tenderness. Harry'd learned a long time ago that they usually only fought to have an excuse to make up. They drove each other crazy all the time in one way or another, but apparently they were doing something right.

Harry called Al and Meghan back into the sitting room, and Ginny followed them, carrying a plate of biscuits, which everyone refused. Meghan sat on the sofa as instructed, and Harry tried to his best to explain the process to her.

"Look, this won't hurt, alright?" Meghan nodded uneasily, obviously not believing a word he said. "I promise," he assured her. "All we're going to do is just a little spell, and you won't even feel a thing. Just make sure and sit still, okay?"

Meghan looked like she was going to burst into tears at any given moment, and Harry looked helplessly at Dean who took the cue and tried to console his daughter. "Promise, Meg, you won't feel anything. It'll be over before you even know."

Meghan, for what it was worth, did sit extremely still, though she clamped her eyes so tightly shut that Harry was positive she wasn't going to be able to open them back. He motioned for Ron to join him, and both he and Hermione came to stand at the sofa. Ginny kept Al back, apparently trying to give Meghan as much space as possible.

The reversal, as promised, took no time at all. The problem, of course, was that whoever had performed the spell had taken much caution to conceal the identity of their wand, and nothing was discovered except the actual spell used- a simple memory charm taught in any Charms book anywhere.

"So now what?" Hermione asked, suddenly very alert. "That was completely _pointless!" _

Harry was pretty sure that everyone started at her outburst, and he looked cautiously at Ron for some kind of assistance.

"Don't _do _that!" she exclaimed heatedly. "Don't look at him like he's supposed to be responsible for me! I _hate _when you do that!"

They'd all known this moment was coming, and while Harry had hoped to not be the focus of her inevitable outburst, he had not gotten his wish. "Hermione, just calm-"

"And don't do that, either!" She was practically yelling now. "That's so fucking condescending."

No one spoke after that. There was nothing to say. Hermione had said just about enough for everyone. That kind of harsh language was rare from her, practically nonexistent in front of any of the children. Harry could see the shocked nervousness all over his son's face and knew that that kind of outburst was something he'd never witnessed from his aunt before.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of awkward silence, Ron tried to intervene. "Hermione, why don't you just sit down?" He placed a hand on her arm, but she shrugged him off immediately.

"Leave me alone," she muttered. She left the room then without a word to everyone, headed toward the back of the house.

Her exit did little relieve the tension in the room. Everyone seemed to look everywhere but at each other. Harry finally caught Ron's eye and saw the hopeless look that was so evident there.

"Sorry," he mumbled, apologizing to the room as one. "I need… I should…" He stumbled over his words and motioned helplessly toward the door Hermione had just left through.

Harry nodded, answering for everyone. Ron took the unspoken answer and followed her.

"I think we're going to go," Dean said slowly. Meghan stood up immediately, and he followed her. "Look, let me know if you need anything," he said genuinely. "And… good luck."

"Thanks," Harry answered gratefully.

Dean and Meghan left then, leaving the way they came, through the Floo. Harry looked to Ginny and Al at that point.

Catching Ginny's eye briefly, he then addressed his son. "I think you need to go to the Burrow, mate," he said quietly.

Al just nodded, his own eyes brimming with tears.

--

Hopefully this chapter will turn out more of a response than the last, but regardless, it was fun to write! Please review!!


	3. Chapter 3

Lost

Chapter 3

It all belongs to JK Rowling and whoever else has stakes in this empire- none of whom are me!

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Two weeks passed, and there was absolutely nothing.

Rose was gone, and there didn't seem to be any trace of her whatsoever. The Ministry had finally gotten involved, though there wasn't much they could offer, as their lead Aurors were, of course, already on the case. After careful consideration, the decision had been made not to involve the Muggle police. Whoever had taken Rose was obviously a wizard or witch, so there was really no point in bringing unnecessary attention to the situation.

Not that they could really _avoid _too much attention. Rose's disappearance seemed to be the lead story in every morning's paper. The papers were taking different angles almost daily- one day, they'd tell a tragic story of a young girl being ripped from the arms of her heroic parents… the next, a story of two people so caught up in their own lives and their own fame that they didn't notice their own daughter being lured away… and then the next, how was Harry Potter dealing with the loss of his niece? It was a load of rubbish, and Ron remembered exactly why he'd hated newspapers all those years ago.

Truthfully, though, the opinion of a reporter was the last thing on his mind. His whole world was crumbling right in front of him, and no matter how diligently he tried to stay in control, he knew he was fighting a losing battle. Still, he tried to keep some semblance of normalcy in his life, though it was more than a bit difficult.

He went to work each day as usual, though his entire day was now devoted to Rose's disappearance. It was the sole case being covered in the Auror department, and though they got hundreds of so-called "tips," nothing ever seemed to turn up a lead. Ron was exhausted, both physically and mentally. He was sick of going to work each day and feeling scrutinized as people either looked at him pityingly or whispered behind his back that he should do a better job of watching his children. He dreaded work every single day, but the alternative was out of the question. He had to go to work and had to do everything in his power each and every day to find Rose.

Besides, if he didn't have the escape of work, he was positive that he might suffer a mental breakdown.

Hermione was a mess. She'd climbed into bed three days before and hadn't left since- save a few trips to the loo, usually to vomit. She claimed to be ill, cited headaches and stomach pains as her main ailments. Ron couldn't deny that she was definitely following through, getting sick at least once a day and barely able to open her eyes against light without cringing in pain. Still, though, he was very positive that a large part of her problem came from the fact that she refused to leave her bed. She seemed to have given up, literally went and hid under the covers. Ron was shocked to put it mildly; she'd never been one to quit or give up on anything. It seemed, though, that she was simply too exhausted to do otherwise.

As she refused to get out of bed, she was certainly in no shape to take care of Hugo, so he was sent off during the days- usually to the Burrow or to Ginny's. He didn't complain, but Ron could tell it bothered him. He was just ten years old, but he was plenty old enough to notice that his sister was gone and to realize that something was very, very wrong. Ron knew he was probably overwhelmed and confused, but unfortunately, there wasn't a lot of time to be spent on Hugo when Rose was missing. Regardless, though, he made efforts wherever he could.

He arrived to pick Hugo up around 5. He'd stayed with Ginny that day, and Ron was surprised to find the house completely quiet when he showed up to get him. The only noise seemed to be running water coming from the kitchen where the dishes were apparently cleaning themselves. Ginny was curled in an armchair reading.

"Hey," she said brightly, forcing a smile when she saw him. "Is Harry with you?"

Ron shook his head and collapsed onto the sofa, every muscle in his body seemingly screaming with tiredness. "No, I think he's going to work until about 7."

Ginny looked slightly disappointed, but she nodded. "How's Hermione doing?"

Ron fought the urge to roll his eyes. "She's doing nothing, that's how," he said bluntly. "Unless you count crying and vomiting, and then she's a champion."

Ginny frowned and set her book aside. "Maybe she needs to see a Healer."

"She's not ill," he insisted. "She's making _herself _sick by lying in bed all day."

"Maybe," Ginny said slowly. "But who can blame her?"

Ron said nothing. He didn't want to reveal himself, didn't want to say out loud that _he _could blame her. He didn't think it made him sound too compassionate, and he wasn't positive that it wasn't a totally bastardly thing to think. But it wasn't fair for her to put _everything _on him.

Not wanting to out himself as such a prick, he changed the subject. "Where is everyone?"

"James is with George, Al's doing homework, and Lily and Hugo are _napping." _She accentuated the word because the two of them napping was a miracle all its own. They were two of the most rambunctious children Ron had ever seen, and they rarely rested for anything.

"Wow," he said, impressed. "Must have been a long day."

"Quidditch," she said by way of one word answer.

Ron nodded understandingly and then went up to collect his son. Lily's bedroom was the first room at the top of the stairs, and he pushed open the half-closed door quietly. Both children were curled on Lily's bed sleeping peacefully. He stared at them a moment, trying to work out how he could get Hugo without disturbing Lily. He heard a noise behind him, though, and turned around, startled.

Al was standing the doorway watching him. "Sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to sneak up."

Ron shook his head and ushered his nephew back into the hallway so that they wouldn't wake the kids. "You okay?"

Al nodded quickly, though his eyes darted away, revealing his lack of confidence. "Did you find out anything about Rose?"

"Not today, no."

Ron watched as Al nodded again, his face one of sadness and worry. He felt sorry for him, felt that he, like Hugo, was being a bit ignored in the midst of everything. Al and Rose had been best friends since the first moment either of them could remember. They'd grown up together their whole lives, and they'd always shared a ridiculous sort of mind-blowing closeness. He was probably as devastated as anyone over the recent events.

"I need her help," Al said quietly. "With homework. She always helps me…" Ron was not surprised by this, nor was he surprised when Al rambled on. "She's the smartest in everything, you know… In all our classes. She knows everything."

Ron felt awful for him. He could see the hurt and confusion behind Al's green eyes, so he did the best he could in the moment. "I'm not as smart as her," he said slowly. "But maybe I could help? What're you stuck on?"

"Transfiguration," Al muttered glumly. "I'm rubbish at it."

Ron could definitely sympathize with that. "Well, let's have a look, huh?"

The next hour was spent in Al's room as both Ron and Al tried and failed to figure out his Transfiguration essay. Ron thought it a little sad that he was a trained Auror and couldn't figure out a simple Second Year Transfiguration essay, but he wasn't too entirely shocked. When they'd done as much as they could, he woke Hugo up and the two of them returned home.

He was not surprised at all to find everything in the house exactly as he'd left it, including the breakfast mess he hadn't had time to clean up that morning. Hermione was, unsurprisingly, in bed, and he doubted that she'd moved all day.

"Dad, I'm _hungry," _Hugo whined, revealing the fact that his nap hadn't quite been complete when he'd been interrupted.

Being no stranger to the kitchen, Ron managed to have them a stack of ham sandwiches almost immediately, and they both sat down to eat.

"D'you think Mum wants one?" Hugo asked, his mouth full of food.

"She's probably not hungry," Ron answered honestly.

Hugo frowned at this. "She's never hungry," he replied quietly. "And she never plays with me or anything. She doesn't even _talk _to me anymore."

Ron felt awful. He knew Hugo was getting a raw deal and knew that, if anything, they should be making _more _of an effort with him than less, but it was difficult. Rose was the only thing on their minds most of the time, and Hugo was getting left behind.

"She just doesn't feel that great right now, mate," Ron said gently.

Hugo frowned but nodded nonetheless, finishing off his dinner silently. When they were done, Ron sent him upstairs for a bath and promised to be up later for some chess. Hugo went without protest as Ron quickly set the kitchen to clean itself before peeking into his room.

Hermione was lying on her side with the blanket pulled all the way up to her neck. He couldn't tell if she was sleeping or not, so he attempted a question.

"You okay?"

She didn't answer, but he noticed her head move slightly, signaling that she was awake.

"You should probably get up," he ventured slowly. "Move around a bit."

"I'm tired," she mumbled.

"It's not healthy to stay in bed all day."

"Leave me alone, I don't feel well." He could barely make out her words, she was still mumbling.

"Hugo's asking about you," he tried, hoping to guilt her into responding. "I think he's worried about you."

"Tell him I'm sick."

"Hermione, you should get up."

"I don't feel like it."

"You need to get up. Lying there isn't doing anyone any good- not Hugo and not Rose."

"I'm _sick!" _She finally spoke up loud and clearly.

He closed his eyes, trying to keep his patience. "Hermione, you're not sick."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not, you're just making yourself ill by lying there all the time."

"I'm sick," she repeated firmly.

"Then what's wrong?" he demanded, challenging her. "If you're sick, then tell me exactly what's wrong."

She didn't answer, and he felt an awful sense of self-satisfaction. She knew he was right. He was about to point this out, but she muttered two words that floored him.

"I'm pregnant."

He couldn't have heard her right. It was _impossible. _"What?!" he asked, completely dumbfounded. She didn't repeat herself, and he realized, horrified, that he'd heard correctly. "I don't…" He couldn't even think of anything to say. Finally, he just said the first thing that came to his head, "_Fuck, _Hermione."

She rolled over then and stood up. "Nice," she said icily. "Thanks for the response, I really appreciate it."

She crossed the room wordlessly and entered the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

He knew he should go after her, knew his reaction was completely prickish… but he couldn't move. He couldn't do anything but rerun her words over and over in his head. He suddenly felt extremely ill himself.

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Hermione found out she was pregnant on a Tuesday.

It was her mother, initially, who suggested the idea. She'd dropped by in the morning to check on Hermione and to find out any news on Rose. She'd brought with her a homemade apple dumpling and a Muggle pregnancy test.

Hermione had been shocked at the suggestion, shocked that her mother would even suggest such a thing. True, she _was _exhibiting several symptoms that could suggest pregnancy, including the absence of one very important monthly event… But still, her daughter was missing, and to say she was a bit stressed would be putting it lightly. Even the notion that she might be pregnant was practically laughable, not to mention impossible. She was extremely careful and had _always _been that way. Both of her children had been born on carefully planned timelines, and that was the way she liked it. She did not entertain the possibility of unplanned pregnancy and had no desire to "let nature take its course." She wasn't that type of person, couldn't take chances and risks like that. She knew plenty of people who had "surprise" babies, and she didn't think there was anything wrong with it. After all, both James _and _Lily had been, well, quite unexpected, and while the arrival of James _had _put a very abrupt end to Ginny's professional Quidditch career, both she and Harry had dealt with the unexpected additions quite easily. But that wasn't Hermione. She couldn't deal with unexpected; she needed structure.

Her mother insisted, though, and after a full hour of arguing, she finally relented and huffily agreed to take test, if for nothing but to shut her mother up. Three minutes later, though, she found her heart dropping to the floor.

Two pink lines. Two pink lines meant positive. Positive meant pregnant.

Hermione was horrified.

She immediately performed the magical equivalent of the test, a quick spell that turned up an immediate answer. When she got the response, she actually dropped her wand. It was a good thing that her mother was there; otherwise, she might have fainted.

She couldn't be _pregnant. _

No one was more cautious than she was. She was the most careful person she knew when it came to such things. She'd never even had so much as a pregnancy _scare _in the past. She and Ron had simply planned out the right age for their first child and timed the second one almost exactly two years later. They wanted one girl and one boy. Miraculously, they'd gotten exactly what they'd wanted. And that was it. They hadn't even entertained the idea of adding more children to their family. When Hugo was born, they both agreed that two children was the perfect amount.

Ron was going to kill her. Well, probably not kill her, but he was probably going to kill himself from a heart attack or something. He didn't want anymore children, and she knew that. Neither did she. Especially _now. _Now when she was just a couple of years shy of forty. Now when their whole world was coming apart at the seams…

This was awful.

As she lowered her head against the bathroom door, she realized that she'd correctly predicted Ron's reaction. She'd waited for two days to tell him, scared to death of what he would say. She'd sworn her mother to secrecy and spent the next days lying in bed trying to figure out a way to tell him. She wasn't sure why she'd done it like that, but she was sick of hiding it and didn't have any other options.

Her head was spinning, and she could feel a stinging at the back of her eyes. She tried to force herself to breathe steadily, afraid that her lungs were going to quit on her. She could only imagine what he was thinking, how he was going to blame her for it. She'd always taken care of those things, and while she couldn't recall any mistakes, if they were going to have a baby, it would inevitably be her fault.

"Hermione?" She lifted her head as a knock sounded on the other side of the wood.

She swallowed, trying to steady her voice. "Go away," she said dully.

"Hermione, please open the door." He didn't _sound _angry, but that didn't mean anything. She knew he was having to physically control his emotions to avoid raging at her.

She was shocked when he opened the door himself.

"I asked you to go away," she mumbled, turning away from him.

"How could this happen?" he asked, ignoring her words. "I… I just don't understand."

"It's my fault," she bit out harshly. "So feel free to yell at me or whatever it is that you wish to do right now." She could hear the bitchiness in her tone, but she didn't care.

"Hermione-"

"No, go ahead!" she said hotly, spinning around to face. "You know you want to, so go ahead and say it. It's all my fault, isn't it?"

"It's no one's _fault."_

"Oh, don't do that," she rolled her eyes. "Don't stand there and act like you aren't horrified at the mere idea of it. I know you're angry."

"I just don't understand…"

"There's nothing to understand!" she raged, feeling herself losing control by the second. "It is what it is!"

She was nearing hysteria, she knew it. She couldn't help it, though. A billion emotions seemed to be bubbling up inside her, just waiting for the chance to bust free. Without being able to stop herself, she kept going.

"Tell me how awful it is!" she demanded. "Tell me how I've ruined all the plans and how we're too old to have another baby! Tell me I'm a horrible mother who doesn't deserve another child!"

Tears poured from her eyes before she could control them, and Ron grabbed her shoulders in what she knew was an attempt to make her calm down. "Hermione, _stop," _he said firmly.

She stopped talking, not because he told her to but because she was crying so heavily now that she couldn't form words if she tried. When he seemed to be sure she was done with the hysterics, he continued more gently.

"None of that is true, love. Alright?" He was speaking to her tenderly now, but while she was grateful, she was also wary that he was only being nice because he was afraid she was going to have a mental crack up or something. "You are a _wonderful _mother, and you have always have been."

He was trying to console her, but he was bringing up her biggest fear at the same time. "I lost my daughter," she choked out, her voice little more than a whisper as her tears caused her to gasp for air. "What kind of a mother _does _that?"

"You didn't lose her," he said flatly. "That's _not _what happens."

"I'm her _mother," _Hermione argued desperately. "I'm supposed to _protect _her!"

His grip on her shoulders tightened slightly, and Hermione felt his fingertips dig a little harder into her arms. "Hermione, please don't do that," he begged quietly. "We can't do that, okay? It… We just can't."

She let him fold her into his arms, sobs still wracking her body. She wasn't even sure exactly _why _she was crying, whether it was Rose or the new baby or her inadequacies as a parent or just a mixture of everything and a dash of pregnancy hormones. She couldn't stop herself, and she stopped trying to protest as Ron whispered words she didn't really hear to her and gently stroked her hair, letting her cry. She felt awful making him do everything, putting all of the pressure on him to take care of everything- finding Rose, taking care of Hugo, putting up with her… He was a good man, and she was very thankful to have him in her life.

She cried for probably a good fifteen minutes, before a quiet voice interrupted them.

"Dad…" Hugo's voice wavered slightly, and Hermione lifted her head to see him staring at her uneasily. She wiped her eyes quickly, trying to both stop and hide her tears at the same time.

"Yeah, mate?"

Hugo shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He was dressed in pajamas, and his hair was sopping wet. Hermione guessed that he'd just had a bath and was getting ready for bed. "Uncle Harry's on the Floo," Hugo swallowed, averting his eyes from Hermione; she realized he was probably frightened by her tears. "He said he needs to talk to you."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. Harry could be calling for any number of reasons, but something told her that it was about Rose. She was terrified to learn whether it was good news or bad news, and she looked up at Ron who ran a quick hand down her arm.

"I'll be right back," he promised. "You okay now?"

She nodded, inhaling slowly to calm her unsteady breathing. Ron gave her the tiniest smile and disappeared from the room. Hugo turned and started to leave as well, but Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He looked up at her warily, bright blue eyes masked behind slightly fluttering pale eyelashes. He had Ron's eyes.

"You okay, love?" she asked quietly, surprised at how easily her voice calmed as she spoke to him.

He looked half-terrified and half-devastated. She immediately felt horrible as she realized that this was the first time in a number of days that she'd even spoken to her son. She hadn't meant to distance herself, but things had happened that had made it too difficult for her.

"I'm okay." Hugo swallowed slowly. "Are you okay?"

She smiled at him, the best smile that she could manage. "I'm okay."

Hugo didn't say anything, just stared up at her carefully. She bent down then and pulled him into her arms, hugging him tightly and breathing in the freshly-bathed scent of him. A couple of moments later, he wrapped his arms around her neck and buried his face into her. Without speaking, she picked him up, lifting him from the ground without him moving an inch from his current position. She carried him toward his room in a way she hadn't done in years, not since he was much, much younger. He was heavier now, bigger… he was still her baby.

"Will you read to me?" he mumbled, his face still pressed into her neck. She could barely make out his words, but she nodded as she lowered him into his bed and began tucking him in. When she was satisfied that he was tucked in warmly, she picked up a book from his beside table. They had a long-standing tradition of reading both Muggle and Wizarding stories, and as she opened _Treasure Island, _she realized that it was still marked to the last place she'd read to him.

"I was waiting for you," he said quietly, answering her unasked question.

She pressed a kiss to his forehead and lay beside him as was their tradition. She hadn't read to him since before Rose's birthday, and she realized that she missed it terribly. He curled close to her, and she read almost two chapters before she heard his light snoring. He was sleeping peacefully, one of his little hands tucked safely into hers. She didn't want to leave his side for anything, and before she realized what was happening, she dozed off to join him…

"_Hermione." _She heard the voice in her head before she realized someone was actually speaking to her and that she wasn't dreaming. She opened her eyes groggily, wondering how long she'd been asleep and what time it was. Ron was standing over her, whispering to her urgently. She glanced at him and then down at Hugo was dozing contently.

"What time is it?" she asked, her voice cracking with sleepiness as she forced herself to sit up.

"A little past nine," Ron shook his head, "but c'mon, I have to tell you something."

She got up then and followed him quickly out of the room, closing the door to Hugo's room so that he could continue his sleep undisturbed.

"What is it?" she asked, hoping beyond hope that it was nothing bad.

"There's been a lead," he said, and she noticed how strange his voice sounded- as though he didn't know whether to be happy or upset.

"A real one?" Her heart fluttered nervously in her chest. "What lead?"

"Harry said…" Ron's voice trailed, and he wrinkled his brow as if confused by his own words. "Harry said _Goyle _came in and seems to know where she is…"

"_Goyle?!" _Hermione was horrified. "Gregory Goyle?"

Ron nodded.

Hermione didn't know what to think. She thought quickly and realized she hadn't seen or heard from Goyle since the moment she and Ron had shoved him off a broomstick and into a Hogwarts hallway twenty years before. What the hell was _he _doing anywhere near her daughter?

"What did he say?"

Ron hesitated again, his face still one of confusion. "I dunno really… But Harry said he doesn't think he's lying."

"Does he _have _her?"

"I don't think so… Harry's coming over in a bit, he said he has to go home first. But… I don't really know what's going on…"

Hermione stared at him. She hadn't seen him look this lost in a long time, and she wondered exactly _what_ Goyle said that had him so confused. Her heart was still racing in her chest, but she felt calmed for the first time in days. There was a clue… a _real _clue. It was more than they'd had at all.

For the first time in a very long while, Hermione realized that she didn't feel the least bit sick.

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Thanks to everyone who is reviewing, it means a lot!


	4. Chapter 4

Lost

Chapter 4

All the characters and everything else in this story belong to JK Rowling.

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Despite what one might believe, there were several downsides to being Harry Potter's wife- the main one being fame.

Ginny had learned a long time ago that privacy was something she would never again have the opportunity to enjoy. As soon as her engagement was announced, she realized she couldn't go anywhere in the Wizarding community without being stared at and whispered about. She hated walking down Diagon Alley and hearing people whisper rumors that she had "trapped" Harry Potter by "getting knocked up." It wasn't long after that she told Harry she wanted to move to a Muggle neighborhood, and she only ventured elsewhere as little as possible.

She remembered the controversy surrounding their wedding as clearly as she remembered anything. She remembered the newspaper articles that called her all kinds of scandalous things and the opinion columns where people wrote that she was a gold-digging, fame-seeking whore. And other such lovely titles… Not only was she all of those things, she even had the nerve to be pregnant before she was married! They'd tried to keep that bit of information under wraps in the weeks before the wedding, but the story had broken anyway, absolutely mortifying her mother and causing outrage amongst their community. It didn't matter that they'd been dating since her Fifth year of school, didn't matter that she'd been in love with him her whole life or that he was already a part of her family. It didn't matter, either, that she hadn't done so horribly for herself financially, three seasons of starting for the Harpies, including two playoffs and one championship win, had earned her quite a savings. But no, none of that mattered. The fact that she was marrying Harry Potter, who _Witch Weekly, _had named "The World's Most Eligible Bachelor" for four years straight, must have meant one thing and one thing only- she was a horrid, vapid, money-hungry whore- a _pregnant _whore. Period.

Of course, fifteen years had passed since then, and she no longer had to read headlines calling her those awful sorts of names. The paper and the world at large had accepted that she and her husband were actually in love and married because they _wanted _to be. She still had to face whispers and stares, had to deal with autograph seekers and reporters hounding them whenever they went out in the Wizarding public. It was one of the reasons she enjoyed living in a Muggle neighborhood, far removed from journalists and fans. It was impossible to stay completely out of the spotlight, though, as both she and Harry worked in the Wizarding sector of London- he for the Ministry and she, sometimes, for _The Daily Prophet. _

She hadn't been to work lately, though. With her kids home from school and everything that was going on with Rose, she'd made the decision that it was best for all of them if she stayed home for the time being. Ron and Hermione needed her help with Hugo, and her own kids were having tough times of it as well, especially Al who became more and more sullen each day. Now she was pretty much just a stay at home mum, and she was beginning to be thankful for such.

It annoyed her to read headlines about her family in the same newspaper she was supposed to have an allegiance to as a sports reporter. They were saying really nasty things about her brother and sister-in-law, and she was furious with some of the assumptions and accusations being thrown around. It brought her back to the days when those same types of stories had been written about her- not exactly the same situation, but the papers certainly hadn't been kind to her.

Needless to say, she was not happy when she received a knock on her door and opened it to find a camera flashing in her face.

"Mrs. Potter, dear, mind if we have a word?" A woman Ginny didn't recognize did not wait for an answer before pushing her way through the front door and into the foyer.

"Excuse me," Ginny said hotly. "You need to leave."

"Oh, no, dear," the woman said sweetly, "it'll only take a moment, I just want to get a quick quote from you for my latest story."

"Who are you?" Ginny demanded, shocked at the gall of the woman for barging into her house like that.

"Sylvia Bangthok, celebrity reporter for _The Inside Scoop." _

Ginny rolled her eyes. "That explains it."

"Sorry, explains what?" Sylvia raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"Only a rubbish rag like _The Inside Scoop _would employ such obviously mentally deficient reporters."

Sylvia Bangthok looked positive scandalized. "I beg your pardon!"

"And I beg you to _leave my house!"_ Ginny said hotly, physically shoving the woman back out the still open door and slamming it in her face.

"Who was that?"

She turned around to find James staring at her. "Some old bat," she rolled her eyes. "Trying to get a headline."

James' eyes narrowed slightly. "Why's she just showing up and coming in like that?"

"Because she mistakenly thinks she has a right apparently." Ginny checked the locks, Muggle and magical, and walked back toward her kitchen.

"They need to leave us alone," James said seriously, following her. "This isn't funny."

She was surprised to hear him sound so serious. It wasn't really like him… "You okay?" she asked warily, turning to look at him as she went back to preparing the stew she'd momentarily abandoned.

"It pisses me off!" he said hotly, his eyes flashing slightly. "Why do they have to say all that load of crap all the time? They don't even _know _us!"

By "us," Ginny knew he was referring to the family as a whole, specifically to Ron and Hermione. He'd always been rather attached to them, and she wasn't surprised to see him taking offense to the things being written about them. She'd tried to keep the papers away from him as much as she could, but she knew doing so completely was impossible. He was going to stumble across some of the stories; it was inevitable.

"You just have to ignore it," she said, quoting something her father had said to her years ago when she first started finding herself in the papers. "They make things up because they have nothing better to do."

"But it's not _fair," _James said firmly. "They write all this shit about how Rose is gone because nobody was watching her, but they don't even _know _her parents. They _always _take care of her!"

She did not chastise him for his language because she realized he was really and honestly bothered by it. "Jamie, the only thing you can do is know it's not true and ignore it."

"But it's stupid!" he cried hotly. "What if it was one of us and they were saying those kinds of things about you and Dad?"

"Trust me," she said, extending an arm to place a hand on his shoulder, "there's been things just as terrible written about us before."

"Sometimes I hate this," James said sullenly.

"Hate what?" She took note of the way his face was so constricted and wondered why he was acting like this all of a sudden.

"Dad!" he exclaimed, exasperated. "I mean, not Dad, but you know…" He shook his head confusedly. "Harry Potter and all that stupid stuff."

She understood what he was saying. She had expected to have this conversation sooner or later. "Dad didn't ask for any of it," she said quietly.

"I know, but it's not fair," James pursed his lips. "Sometimes I just want to be normal…"

She knew that James had encountered a world of popularity at school simply by being Harry Potter's son. He normally loved the attention, and she was sure he used it to his advantage at every chance that he got. However, she knew that there would inevitably be a point in time when he would see it as a curse. She assumed that time had arrived.

"Look," she said gently, "I know it's not fair. But it's our life, and we have to deal with it. Part of that is learning how to ignore people who say mean things."

"Who _lie, _you mean."

"Yes, who _lie. _But you know it's not the truth, and that's what's important."

James frowned and shrugged. "When's Dad coming home?"

Ginny turned back to the stew, trying to hide the look of disappointment on her face. Problem Number Two with being Harry Potter's wife- never seeing your husband… Harry was busy. She understood that, and she accepted that. He was Head of the Auror department, and that was a position that took up a lot of time. She did not resent his job, she did not complain. But she _did _miss him. It often felt as if the only time she ever saw him was at three o'clock in the morning when he finally came rolling in and fell into bed. And it was tough, as it would be tough on any woman in her situation.

He was gone more than ever, it seemed, now that Rose was missing. He seemed to spend every waking moment at the office checking out clues and investigating tips. The latest, of course, was the one from Gregory Goyle who claimed to know where Rose was and exactly who had her. Ginny wasn't sure on the details, as she'd only heard of it briefly the night before when Harry had popped in for a total of ten minutes to let her know he would be spending the rest of the evening at Ron and Hermione's. She felt a bit left out, truthfully, felt sort of useless, like the only thing she was good for was cooking and taking care of the kids. But she knew that right now, that job was as important as any, so she'd simply nodded and told him goodbye.

"I don't know," she answered James' question as nonchalantly as possible. "He's working on something about Rose."

"Do you think they're going to find her?" His question was quiet, nervous… Despite the very obvious differences between James and Rose, she knew that deep down he cared about her immensely.

"I'm sure they will," she said confidently, though she felt bad putting on a false sense of security. Truthfully, she'd never been less sure of anything in her entire life. There didn't seem to be _any _leads to finding Rose, but she hoped the latest proved her wrong. "Why don't you go get Hugo and your brother and sister and we'll get dinner started, okay?"

James nodded, though his face still looked worried. She watched him go and turned back to put the last touches to their meal. Her stomach hurt with worry about the situation, but she knew she couldn't dwell on it. Everyone needed her to continue on with the normalcy- for _all _of their sakes.

She wished Harry would come home.

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Gregory Goyle was an _arse._

It was as simple as that.

They'd called him back in for an interview about Rose, and he'd come right away, sliding into a chair in Harry's office with an awful smug look on his face. Harry, Ron, _and _Hermione faced him, and he looked at them as if he was somehow morally superior simply by gracing them with his presence.

He rambled on for well over an hour, claiming to know where Rose was, who had her, and why they had her. The only catch, of course, was that he claimed he couldn't tell. Not for anything less than the small price of 20,000 Galleons anyway…

Ron called him a very unflattering name, but Goyle had simply shrugged and said he _could _make it thirty…

It was Hermione who flat-out refused to even humor him. She'd stood up, screamed at him that he wasn't getting so much as a Sickle out of any of them and accused him of being a low-life liar. She told him he was the biggest prick she'd ever seen and demanded to know what kind of person made up stories about a little girl to try and get _money._

It was lucky that he Disapparated the moment after he called her a "Mudblood cunt" because, otherwise, the words would have been his last.

"That bastard doesn't know anything," Hermione said angrily, her face flushed with fury moments after he disappeared.

Ron, who had regrettably missed removing Goyle's head by a mere half-second, turned furiously to Harry. "That was a complete load of bollocks!" he shouted.

Harry dropped his forehead into the palm of his hand. He didn't know what had gone wrong. When Goyle had shown up at the Ministry out of the blue, he'd looked pale, scared, and jittery. He'd nervously mumbled that he knew where Rose was, but when Harry had asked him for details, he'd gotten even more paranoid and shook his head quickly, claiming that he couldn't tell. Everything was different today, down to his own demeanor. Today he'd just seemed like a total and complete arse.

"What the hell made you think that _that _giant dunderhead could be of any sort of help at all?" Ron demanded hotly.

"He didn't act like that before," Harry said, noting Ron's glare.

"You should have bloody known he was a lying shithead!" Ron raged heatedly. "Did you not grow up with his stupid self like we did??"

Harry couldn't control the glare he returned as he pushed his chair back from the desk and stood up. "You don't have a clue," he said coolly. "You were at home with your family when he showed up- _I _was here working on _your _case."

"So this case has nothing to do with you?" It was Hermione who broke into the conversation then, looking at Harry in a way that probably would have terrified him under normal circumstances. "This is Ron's case now? _Our _case? So what are you doing here, just earning a bloody paycheck?"

"I didn't say that," Harry said flatly, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"You just did," she said, her voice null of emotion.

"No, I didn't," Harry defended. "You know that's not-"

"I don't fucking _care _what you did or didn't mean," she interrupted, her voice even and harsh. "You _said _it." She then looked at Ron expectantly. "Let's don't botherhim anymore," she finished cruelly.

Ron was still glaring at him, and Harry finally lost it.

"If you want to go, then go!" he burst. "If you don't fucking want my help, then that's just fine!"

"You're a real bastard," Ron said icily. "You know that?"

"Yeah, fine!" Harry shook his head quickly. "I'm a bastard! Go tell the world, I'll sit here and do _nothing! _Or better yet, I'll go home to _my _family who I haven't seen in weeks because of this bullshit!"

"Let's get out of here," Hermione said bitingly, shooting a glare at Harry that would have had him dead on the floor if looks could kill. She grabbed Ron's arm and started to lead him out of the office.

"Fine!" Harry called after them. "Make sure you stop and pick up your son who _my _wife's been taking care of while you lay in bed all day!"

He didn't know what was going on, why he couldn't stop himself from saying such awful things. He realized, horrified, that they were all the things he'd been thinking and too afraid to admit. He knew he'd hit a sore spot, though, because Ron spun around in an instant and came charging at him. A moment later, his sight went black, and he felt his head spin as Ron's fist connected with his jaw with an earsplitting crack.

He deserved it. He knew as much. But he also wasn't too sorry, everything he said was the truth. He opened his eyes to see Ron looking at him with more hatred than he could ever remember seeing. They'd had their fair share of arguments over the years, but he didn't remember ever seeing _that _look before… nor did he remember ever seeing the look on Hermione's face as she once again grabbed Ron's arm and dragged him from the room.

He watched them go silently, and when he heard the pop of Disapparation, he lifted a wary hand to his face and touched the area that was throbbing with pain. He would have to get Ginny to fix it when he got home. And he was _going _home.

All he'd done this entire time was try to help. He'd spent every waking minute of the day trying to help them and find Rose, and _this _was the way they wanted to react?

They could be on their own with this one.

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Ron was shaking when they got home, literally _shaking. _He was so angry that he could barely see straight. They'd stopped very briefly to collect Hugo, and Ron told his sister straight out that she was married to a bastard. They didn't bother with explanations, simply gathered Hugo and his things and returned to their own home.

As Hermione took Hugo upstairs for bed, Ron poured himself a drink, a tall, straight glass of firewhiskey. When the glass was emptied in less than a minute, he went straight for the bottle. It was easier to just drink it like that anyway, less trouble.

He felt his problems fade away a bit more with each burning gulp. And he definitely took more than a few…

"That's not fair." Hermione entered the kitchen briskly and snatched the bottle from his hand. "If I can't, you can't," she said seriously, holding the bottle up as explanation.

"God didn't make men child-bearers for a reason," he replied, snatching it back and gulping greedily from it.

"Getting pissed isn't going to do anything except make you sick tomorrow," she said wisely, looking at him as she so often did in a _trust me, I'm smarter than you _kind of way.

He knew she was right, but all the logic in the world wasn't going to keep him from getting drunk tonight. "I just broke my best friend's jaw," he said solemnly, taking another gulp.

"It's probably not broken," Hermione said calmly. "And if it is, he deserved it."

"My best mate in the whole world," Ron went on slowly. "Ever since I was eleven years old, _eleven… _I just punched him in his face…" The words sounded weird out loud, almost like they were someone else's.

The firewhiskey was working quickly.

"Eleven, Hermione, picture that. I'm eleven years old and here is this little peaky git… that's my best mate. Now know this, I just broke his jaw. But picture that, I'm eleven years old on my way to school… And this kid I meet…"

He knew he was starting to slur and was probably not making much sense. Hermione just smiled at him gently, clearly amused against her own will at his alcohol-induced state of mind.

"I was there, Ron," she reminded him softly. "Remember?"

He nodded, the memory fuzzy in his now quite affected brain. "Yeah. You were." He shook his head in disbelief. "Why is he such a bastard?"

Hermione, for once, did not seem to know the answer to a question. She frowned and leaned over the counter to rest her elbows. "I don't know what his problem is," she answered truthfully.

"We don't need him," Ron said firmly, making the decision on the spur of the moment and setting down the now almost-empty bottle of firewhiskey. "He has no clue what he's doing anyway. Clearly."

This was just Harry trying to play hero again. That's what he loved to do after all… but Ron would be damned if he'd take someone's help who acted like he was doing them some sort of huge favor to which they should be indebted. Harry was supposed to be their friend- their _best _friend- even more than that, he was supposed to be _family. _The fact that he would act like that… It said a lot. Ron felt the anger start to build again, despite the dulled feeling the firewhiskey had provided. But even beyond all of that, it was his _job. _Rose's disappearance had been assigned to their department, even without the obvious personal ties to it.

"I think I'm going to quit," he said out of the blue.

"Quit what?" Hermione raised her head and straightened up to look at him.

"The department," he said simply, reaching for the calming bottle yet again. "I don't want to be associated with it anymore, all those sons of bitches thinking I should be indebted to them for doing their damn jobs."

Hermione was silent for a long moment and then crossed her arms over her chest in a very business-like manner. "You're not quitting your job," she said simply.

"Hermione, I just punched my _boss _in the face," he replied pointedly. "How do you think Monday's going to be?"

"You can't quit your job," she said again, shaking her head as though in disbelief.

"Why not?" He took another drink from the bottle, feeling it get lighter by the minute.

Hermione stared at him, almost like she couldn't believe he would even pose the question. "Money, for starters," she said quickly. "Babies tend to take a bit!"

He shook his head, "We've got plenty." And they did, it was the truth. Neither of their salaries were anything to laugh at, and they certainly did alright for themselves. In fact, they were what most people would consider rich. If they'd really thought Goyle was honest with his claims, they could have given him the 20,000 Galleons he'd requested and still had more than enough left over to live on. They'd saved up quite a bit over the years, and their vault at Gringotts was certainly not empty.

Hermione knew all of this, but she apparently refused to acknowledge it. "I haven't been to work in weeks, Ron," she said, uncrossing her arms and placing her hands on her hips. "I probably don't even have a job anymore."

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. "They'd close down your entire department before they'd sack you," he said, not even remotely exaggerating. There was probably nothing in the entire world that Hermione could do that would cause her to be fired or lose her job. She was, unsurprisingly, the star of her department, literally invaluable to them. In a department where age and experience provided rank, Hermione had managed to climb her way to the second highest position in the entire department in the brief six years since she'd transferred. Ron had no doubt that she would have unseated the Head already if she had taken the job offer when it was originally given to her straight out of Hogwarts instead of choosing to spend the first years of her career trying to win house-elves and centaurs the right to vote and whatever else it was that she spent all those years attempting.

"Ron, you are not quitting your job," she said firmly, refusing to even entertain the notion.

"I'm probably going to get fired."

"If you get fired over that…" She shook her head dismissively. "You're not getting fired."

"I can go back to Wheezes. It's probably better anyway." It was true; working with George at the joke shop had been more fun than being an Auror ever had. He was only half-joking with the suggestion.

Hermione didn't respond. She crossed the short distance and took his hand in her own. "I should fix this," she said, referring to his swollen knuckles which were now a purply blue.

"It doesn't hurt," he said, putting on the ever familiar tough act. She rolled her eyes and ignored him.

"It's probably broken."

"Oh, you should see the other guy," he joked.

"Shut up," Hermione lightly smacked him and then took out her wand and effortlessly healed the hand. Ron watched as it returned to a more normal color and noticed the pain glide away instantly.

"You know," he said, now taking _her _hand, "if they _do _sack you for missing, you could always just go work at St. Mungo's. It's never too late for a career change."

Hermione rolled her eyes again, but she grinned despite herself. It was the first time he'd seen her smile in awhile. "I'm not the one getting into fights with my boss," she pointed out.

He shrugged, returning her grin. "Yeah, but that wouldn't really be a fair fight, would it? I mean, your boss is seventy years old…"

The mix of alcohol and the now nonexistent pain in his hand caused Ron to feel a lot calmer than he had a little while ago. He wasn't too worried about the situation with Harry, figured he deserved what he got and wasn't even that sorry about it. He was worried, of course, about Rose, as the best chance of a so-called clue turned out to be a whole load of absolutely nothing, but for the moment, he was more at peace than he'd been in awhile. He pulled Hermione to him and hugged her for a long moment. She rested her head on his shoulder, and they just stood like that for awhile, simply enjoying each other's company without really speaking. It was calming and soothing, and it made them both feel better.

He hoped that Rose was feeling just as calm wherever she was.

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It was July.

There was no reason for it to be so cold. Rose, though, was _freezing. _She was shivering, her teeth literally chattering. Curling her arms around her, she pulled her blanket tighter and tried desperately to get warm, but nothing seemed to work. A loud pop sounded behind her.

"You're not cold, are you, love?"

Rose turned around to view her visitor. It was the woman, carrying a tray of tea. The woman smiled at her, that same stupid smile that she always wore.

"I'm freezing," she said flatly.

"Well, this should warm you up." The woman raised the tea tray for proof before setting it onto the table beside Rose and pouring her a cup.

Rose didn't want to take it, but she was so cold that she would have done anything to get warm at that moment. The tea coated her throat as she swallowed, warming her slightly. She hated when she was forced to take things willingly from them, but sometimes she got too hungry or too thirsty or too cold… and she had no choice.

"Your uncle gave up today." The woman pulled a chair out and sat down, crossing her arms and looking at Rose sympathetically. "On finding you, I mean."

Rose regarded her warily. "Which uncle?"

"Your Uncle Harry." Rose felt sick to her stomach as the woman smiled sadly at her. "He gave up, said he isn't going to try anymore."

"You're lying." Rose pushed her cup of tea away. She refused to believe that anyone was giving up, especially her own family.

"Oh, love…" A soft tsking noise came from the woman's lips. "I know it's rough, but it's not your fault he doesn't care… He's probably just busy, you know. He's taking his kids to a Quidditch game tomorrow!"

Rose said nothing. It wasn't true. Nobody was giving up. Uncle Harry was _not _abandoning her for Quidditch. _Al _wasn't abandoning her for Quidditch. They were looking for her. They were going to _find _her.

"Oh, you're not going to talk anymore, are you, dear?" The woman frowned; when Rose did not respond, she started cleaning up the tea tray. "Well, I'll leave you to it then. You try to get some sleep okay, love?" She gave her one more sickening smile before Disapparating quickly from the doorless room.

As soon as she was gone, Rose felt that day's fifth, or maybe sixth, round of tears well up. She tightened the blanket around her shoulders and fell face forward onto the little cot set up in the corner of the room. The tears started to pour from her eyes immediately, and she sobbed into the single pillow they'd given her. The case was still wet from her last set of tears, but she didn't notice.

_Why _had no one found her yet? Were they really giving up? Why couldn't they just come _get _her? She didn't understand any of it. Did her family really care that little about her that they would just give up and write her off as a loss? It wasn't fair.

She wanted to go home _so _badly. She wanted her mum more than she'd ever wanted anything in her entire life. She wanted to crawl into her dad's lap and curl up into a ball like she used to do as a little girl. She wanted to go swimming with Al. She even wanted to play chess with Hugo. She just wanted to go _home._

But she was beginning to doubt that she'd ever get her wish…

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Again, thanks to everyone who has reviewed. It really does mean a lot!


	5. Chapter 5

LOST

Chapter 5

Again, all of this belongs to JK Rowling.

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It took exactly a week to end the mini-war that was waging.

The disagreement that had begun between Ron, Hermione, and Harry had somehow escalated and become a disagreement between a large part of their family. Almost everyone chose a side, depending largely on whoever relayed the story most quickly. Ron had, unsurprisingly, gone straight to George and turned him against Harry instantly. Harry had taken the opposite approach and had played up to Bill, explaining the irrational behavior of both Ron _and _Hermione and how he'd only been trying to help. One point for Harry. Percy, too, had taken Harry's side, claiming that he'd witnessed the same sort of behavior on several occasions lately. Ron was secretly pleased that he didn't have to even attempt being friendly with that git; he was happy to let Harry have him. Charlie was out of the country and out of the question. There was no point even _trying _to win him over, as he was so hard to get hold of that any attempt would be way more trouble than it was worth. Ron, being two down on siblings, as Ginny had obviously sided with Harry… chose instead to go for their friends, most notably Neville. Neville had been horrified to learn that Harry had heartlessly abandoned the search for Rose. Two points for Ron. Hermione had even gotten involved in the little feud and had gone after Luna, inviting her over for tea and telling her the whole story of how Harry was refusing to help them.

The entire thing was childish, yes, but it was also very natural.

Molly and Arthur were a whole different story, though. They refused to even remotely attempt siding with either of them. Arthur told them both that he was disappointed that they would go round trying to turn the family against each other and that they both needed to reevaluate the entire situation and realize that there were plenty more important things to worry about than silly little feuds.

Molly had gone the sneak-route.

She'd guilted both Ron and Hermione _and _Harry and Ginny over for tea one afternoon and had, instead of serving them tea and biscuits, laid into them in a way she hadn't done since they were all teenagers.

She'd ranted and raged and accused them all of being immature and childish. She'd told them they were being ridiculously petty and that they ought to be ashamed of themselves for even attempting to get other people involved in their stupid little disagreement. Ginny, who had not even been present during the initial argument and had not really done much in the way of trying to sway votes, protested her mother's rant hotly with a very defensive, "I didn't even do anything!"

She'd been shut up very quickly with a full-name calling and a stern order to keep her mouth closed and listen.

Ron had wanted to laugh but stopped himself immediately when his mum then turned on him and demanded to know who the hell he was to go round hitting other people. Why did he think that was acceptable, and _why _did he insist on acting like he was twelve years old?

She'd laid into Harry then, accusing him of being insensitive and thoughtless, screeching that she _knew _he wasn't being honest when he'd claimed to give up on finding Rose. She told him that he ought to be ashamed of himself for even _thinking _such things, must less saying them out loud. How cruel _was _he?

Last but not least, was Hermione. She was _supposed _to be the smart one, the mature one. How could she let herself get caught up in something so petty and actually encourage it? She needed to stop for a second and look at what was happening. Her daughter was _missing _for God's sake!

"You're not _children!" _she'd raged heatedly. "Why must you act like it?"

She'd broken down into tears then, shocking them all. At first, no one had moved. They'd looked at each other, temporarily forgetting their anger, and all silently communicated a response. Ron reacted first, standing up warily and placing a hand on her shoulder. It was to all of their shock that she shrugged him off.

"You need to think about what you're doing!" she exclaimed, wet tears streaking her cheeks as she wiped hurriedly at them. "Rose is just a _baby!"_

"Mum," Ginny said gently, "maybe you should sit down…"

"You don't know what it's like!" Molly said quickly. "None of you do…" She looked round at them wildly until she shook her head and muttered much more quietly, "You don't know."

"Know what?" It was Ginny, again, who had spoken, her voice nervous, clearly dreading the response.

Her mother just shook her head once more and closed her eyes before answering simply, "What it's like to _really _lose a child."

There was silence, and no one dared to look at each other. No one wanted to touch that one, it wasn't a subject that any of them loved too much and it was one that stayed untouched most of the time. Still, though, when it did come up, it felt as fresh as it had all those years ago.

"I held my son's dead body in my _arms," _she bit out painfully. Her gaze rested solely on Hermione then, and she whispered, "Do you want to do that?"

Hermione's eyes were shining with unshed tears, but she said nothing, simply looked down at the floor intently. It wasn't that she was naïve, she just did not want to think about the possibility that she might never see her daughter again or that if she _did _see her that she might be lifeless.

"Excuse me," she muttered quietly, pushing back her chair and leaving the room in a hurry.

Ron didn't even bother pardoning himself as he got up and followed her immediately. The rest watched them go until Harry cleared his throat uneasily and announced that he was going to go after them. Ginny offered him a small smile before nodding her agreement and watching him leave.

When she was alone with her mother, Ginny found she had nothing to say. What was there to say? "Mum?"

"Ginny, I'm fine," her mother said gruffly, wiping at her eyes quickly. "I need to prepare dinner." She turned away and started gathering pots and pans from under the sink. Ginny knew what she was doing; she was doing what she always did when she was uncomfortable- she was going to cook enough for fifty people and wonder why there was no one there to eat it.

It was a lost cause, Ginny knew. There was nothing to say or do, her mother was not going to respond. With a quiet, "I'll see you later," Ginny got up from the table and left her mother alone in the kitchen.

She needed fresh air, and as she pushed open the front door to the Burrow, she almost ran straight into someone- or rather, two someones.

"Oi! Watch it!" George was at the front stoop, preparing to enter just as Ginny was exiting. He was holding Roxanne, whose eyes went wide at the near-collision.

"Sorry," she mumbled, stepping onto the porch and letting the door swing shut behind her. "What're you doing here?"

"Just stopping by," George shrugged one arm as he readjusted Roxie on his hip. "What about you?"

"Mum tricked us," she said darkly, shaking her head when George raised his eyebrows in question. "Now she's gone off the bloody deep end about Fred."

"What'd he do?" George asked quickly. "I didn't even know he was here, Angelina was supposed to have him today."

"Not _that _Fred," Ginny replied, her eyes darting uneasily to the ground.

Realization dawned on him, and he nodded slowly. "Oh," was all he said.

There was an awkward silence, and both of the siblings looked away from each other for a few moments. Finally, George cleared his throat. "I'll handle it."

George always "handled" it when the subject of Fred came up. It wasn't often that his name was brought up in more than passing, even less often that their mother would go off and start crying about it. Twenty years had passed, after all. Time had healed most of the wounds associated with the war, Fred's death included. However, there were moments when memories crept up and proved themselves to be too difficult to handle.

That was always when George stepped in.

"Do you want to, uh-" he swung his head in the direction of his daughter who was still sitting perched on his hip.

"Oh, sure," she nodded, understanding. Smiling, she addressed Roxanne. "You want to go play with Lily?"

Roxie nodded eagerly. "Can I, Daddy?" she asked hopefully.

"Only for a kiss," he wagered, raising his eyebrows at her.

Roxie giggled and leaned forward to kiss him straight on the nose. He pretended to bite at her chin, and she squealed with laughter. Ginny watched, amused. George was spare over that child, as was most of the family. Roxanne was the baby, the youngest grandchild and definitely spoilt for it. With eleven older children in the family, she spent most of her time being doted upon and loving every second of it. She was definitely a little princess and possibly the cutest child in the world, light mocha skin with wide brown eyes and out of control curls that were always held in place with two pigtails placed high on her head.

Ginny took Roxie from George then and asked him to tell Harry that she'd gone home if he happened to run into him. George didn't know exactly what was going on or even really why Ginny, and apparently Harry, were there, other than her nondescript answer of being "tricked" by their mother. Regardless, he watched Ginny Disapparate with Roxanne in her arms and then pushed open the door to the Burrow.

It was still strange to hear absolutely nothing when he entered the house he'd grown up. To him, the Burrow was, and would always be, a place of bustling energy. There should be people running around, voices laughing and yelling at each other from the various rooms. It was just strange to walk in and feel… the emptiness of it all.

He thought fleetingly of childhood as he passed through the main sitting room on his way to the kitchen. How many nights had he spent in that very room, hiding behind the sofa with Fred and plotting new pranks to play on their parents and siblings? How many times had they raced down this very hallway on the way up to their room to escape their mum's rage after she busted them doing something they knew they definitely shouldn't be doing?

Twenty years. It almost seemed unbelievable, considering how vividly he could picture those days of endless mischief. He didn't feel as old as he was, didn't see how it was possible that he'd been alive for four decades, much less spent two of them without Fred. Fred was, and always would be, half of him. He'd learned to exist separately, of course, but that was only because he realized he never had to fully let go of his twin. It was because of that revelation that he could comfort others when they mourned, specifically his mother- he'd always been the sole person who could calm her down when she'd randomly begin missing Fred.

She was in the kitchen cooking, of course. George thought back to the weeks directly following Fred's death; his mother had cooked enough to feed the entire country three times a day. No one was ever hungry, but everyone always obliged her, taking the heaping plates and forcing them down, though no one felt much like eating then. He wondered who she planned to force heaping plates on today. Himself, he assumed, and maybe Harry if he was, in fact, around like Ginny had suggested.

"You planning a party?" he asked nonchalantly, sidling into the room and leaning against the counter lazily.

His mother jumped at the interruption and spun around. "Don't _do _that!" she hissed, smacking at him with the dish towel she held in her hand.

George just smirked. Not so much had changed in twenty years… "Sorry."

"Did Ginny send you in here to babysit me?" she asked haughtily.

George shrugged. "Not in so many words, no."

"Well, you can save your breath." She turned back to the crisp she was mixing. "I'm perfectly fine, thank you."

"She said you were on about Fred."

He could see his mother roll her eyes from his side point of view. "I'm not _on _about anything," she said firmly. "I was just trying to make them all grow up."

"Make who grow up?"

"Ron and Harry," she said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And even Hermione apparently."

George fit the pieces together and realized what Ginny must have meant by being tricked. Molly Weasley always was a bit of a sneak, and he had no doubt that she had lured them there under false pretenses and then blessed them out.

"They're just having a rough time of it," he said, wondering why he was bothering to defend any of them. "It's just something silly."

"It's _not _silly." He watched as his mother waved her wand over a row of carrots and set them to chopping themselves. "They're getting into fights like they're thirteen years old or something. Worse yet, they're going round trying to get you lot involved in it!"

"I chose Ron." George felt his face twitch as he tried not to laugh at his mother's outraged expression.

"That is exactly what I'm talking about!" she exclaimed disbelievingly.

"Relax, Mum," he said, grinning. "You know they'll be over it in no time."

"This is a very serious situation," she said, no hint of humor in her voice. "They need to realize that."

"Mum, those three _saved the world_, remember that?" He rolled his eyes as he exaggerated the phrase so often used in reference to them. "I think they can handle a little argument."

"Rose is a _baby!" _His mother's sudden raise in voice surprised him for a moment, but it took him only a second to regain his composure.

"Rose will be fine." He didn't know how he knew this, but there was not a single doubt in his mind that she was just fine and would remain that way. "We'll find her."

"You all-" she shook her head, cutting herself off. "No one understands what it's like, _losing _your baby…" Her voice trailed off, and George spotted a fresh wave of tears welling in her eyes. "Like it can't happen," she muttered. "It _can _happen."

"Mum," he said, his voice more gentle and soothing than the amused sarcasm that he'd previous employed, "we're going to find her. And she's going to be fine."

"But you don't _know _that!" Her voice cracked at the same moment that her tears spilled over again.

"But I know Rosie," he said calmly, "and that's one kid who isn't giving up _anything _without one hell of a fight."

"Language," she muttered, and he smirked, gathering her up in his arms and hugging her tightly. He'd realized a long time ago that she hugged him twice as long as she used to, and he wondered if she was able to feel Fred through him.

She knew he was right, though. Rose was probably the smartest kid that age he'd seen since, well, her mother. It was a bit annoying actually, as she sometimes engaged herself in conversations that made him, and everyone else he was sure, feel a bit dumb and uneducated, despite the fact that they all had more than a few years on her. She'd been a target for her cousins ever since the moment she'd learned to speak; they teased her relentlessly and mocked her about it, though it was obvious any and all teasing was just administered because she made them all feel a bit inadequate. It was difficult especially for some of the older children to have to deal with the fact that she was already more advanced than they were, even when she was a small child. All of that was thanks to Hermione, of course, George reflected, it definitely had nothing to do with his ridiculous half-dolt of a brother.

Beyond that, though, Rosie was as hot-tempered as they came- that bit was a mix of Hermione _and _Ron, as both of them had hilariously quick tempers that were so easy to wind up it almost wasn't even funny- _almost_. Rose inherited that part tenfold; she could snap in a heartbeat and leave people wondering how such a temper managed to escape from such a little girl. She was stubborn and bossy, not to mention a tad bit foul-mouthed sometimes, much to her mother's horror and her father's slight amusement… Whoever was going to cross her had better damn well be prepared for a fight, that much was for sure. He was quite positive that whoever had taken her was beginning to regret it rather quickly.

"I just worry about her," George watched as his mother withdrew herself from his arms and wiped at her eyes. "She's just so young."

"Yeah, but you know Rosie," he said knowingly. "Young's never been too much of an issue for her."

She nodded, seeming to accept his assertion. She looked at him tenderly for a moment, pausing in a way that let him know her mind was going elsewhere. The corners of her lips lifted in a sad smile, and she placed her palm against his cheek. "I still miss him so much sometimes," she said quietly.

He didn't have to ask to whom she was referring. In an odd moment of seriousness, he just nodded slightly and whispered an honest response. "Me, too."

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Hermione didn't know why she'd run to Ron's old room after excusing herself from the kitchen. She should have just gone home, though she wasn't sure she could make it there at the moment without splinching herself and losing an extremity. She hadn't been up there in ages, maybe years, despite the fact that she was at the Burrow quite often. There were too many stairs to climb to get to his room, something that had always annoyed her as a child; she supposed that was why she didn't choose to climb them all that often as an adult. She barely noticed them now, though, and she found herself pushing open the door that led to the small attic bedroom.

Everything looked much the same as it had decades ago. It still had a hideously orange décor, was still as cluttered and messy as ever. The children played here, she knew, as they did in all of the unused bedrooms at the Burrow. She could tell someone had been in rather recently, as a plate of fresh biscuit crumbs sat on the bedside table. A million memories flooded her mind as she looked around the forgotten bedroom. She wondered how many afternoons she'd spent sitting at the window seat doing homework or revising the boys' essays. She wondered how many times she'd let herself get pulled into ridiculous arguments over any number of silly subjects in this very room. There were other memories, of course. How many late nights had she spent in this room confessing her deepest fears and secrets? As a teenager, she'd been terrified of dying or, worse even, losing her friends and family. These weren't fears she ever shared with people, though, no one except Ron anyway. He was the only one who could ever understand what it was like then, what it was like to be Harry Potter's best friend. They'd done a lot of growing up together, the two of them, they'd been forced to face and deal with a lot more than most of their schoolmates.

Perhaps that was why it had been so easy to fall in love with him.

Not that their relationship had ever been _easy _in those days. It had been confusing and infuriating and just plain _awkward _sometimes. She'd go from hating him to loving him overnight; they'd go from being sweet and slightly flirtatious to screaming and slamming doors moments later. They were teenagers, though, and Hermione remembered how terrifying the thought of falling for him was back then. She hadn't known how to handle those feelings, the change from friendship to… more. Emotions and jealousy and hormones, not to mention complete and total _confusion. _It was a lot to deal with.

But they grew up together. _Really _grew up. They faced life, death, and everything in between together, and after the war, there was nowhere else to go but to each other.

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, thinking back to the other memories this bedroom provided. A thousand stolen kisses and quiet private moments, shy giggles and even healing tears. She opened her eyes as she sat down on the bed. The old, lumpy, too-short twin bed where she'd lost every last remaining shroud of her innocence, where they _both _had. It was sloppy, awkward, and a bit rushed- all the things a proper first time should be- but she'd fallen in love with him and had known then that there really was no going back. That summer seemed like a million years ago- the summer after the war, the first summer in ages that they hadn't had to worry about anything besides themselves…

The door opened, and she looked up to see Ron slip quietly into the room. A moment later, she watched as Harry came in behind him. She didn't need to ask any questions. She could tell just from looking that things were fine. Whatever argument they'd been having for the past week was over. She didn't know the details, of course, but if she were to guess, she imagined that they'd had a heated conversation in the stairwell that eventually turned into concerned discussion and finally to apologies. She didn't know who had apologized to whom, but it didn't matter. Things were better.

Without speaking, Ron and Harry sat down on either side of her. They sat like that for a long moment, just silently. Without speaking, she slipped an arm around each of their waists and pulled them a little closer. These were _her _boys, they always had been and they always would be. No matter what happened and no matter how old they got. Her whole life had started with them. For a very long time, they had _been _her life. No stupid argument was going to change any of that.

"I'm sorry." It was Harry who spoke, his voice low and quiet.

Hermione studied his profile for a second, took in the sincerity and the honesty of his words. "Me, too," she replied softly, leaning her head to the side until it rested on his shoulder.

Ron leaned over until he could place a very light kiss against her cheek. "So am I," he admitted as quietly as the others.

And that was all there was to it. The past week had been forgotten. The stupid fight they'd gotten into was inconsequential; it was simply too much stress and pain erupting all at once. They weren't going to let it come between them, not when they held the strongest bond of friendship any of them could possibly imagine.

"I know Goyle was an idiot," Harry said, sensing the acceptance and forgiveness shared between them. "But he wasn't _like _that before."

Hermione had considered this during the week that had passed since the confrontation. Deep down, she knew that Harry wouldn't purposely lead them to dead ends.

"Then why'd he change his tune so quickly?" Hermione could tell that Ron wasn't quite as convinced as she was.

"I don't know." Harry shook his head. "But he did, I swear."

"D'you think someone threatened him?" Hermione asked, trying to think of a reason for such a sudden change in attitude.

'Maybe," Harry shrugged.

"Or maybe Polyjuice?" Ron suggested. "Who's to say that either of those people was really Gregory Goyle?"

Hermione hadn't thought of that, but she assumed it was possible. Harry, though, shook his head again. "Nah, I'm almost positive that was really him. I just don't know why he was so different…"

"Is there anyone else we could talk to?" Hermione wondered out loud. "Someone who might know something about him? Or maybe know the same things he supposedly knew but wasn't willing to tell?"

The idea seemed to enter all of their heads at the same time, and Hermione leaned back slightly as they all three looked at each other questioningly.

"No way," Ron said firmly, shaking his head. "I am _not _asking Malfoy for help."

"Look," Harry said sensibly, "it can't hurt to at least ask. I mean, who else do we know who might have some sort of inside info on Goyle?"

'Nothing doing," Ron said, just as firmly as his first assertion. "I'd rather cut off my own hand than sit and have to listen to that smarmy bastard."

"It might help us find Rose." Hermione looked at him pleadingly, and she saw his hard demeanor soften slightly. After a moment or two, he gave in.

"Fine," he relented painfully. "But you're not going."

At that, she dropped her arms from their waists and stared at him incredulously, not quite sure she'd heard correctly. _"Excuse me?"_

Ron did not hesitate to repeat himself. "You're not going with us."

She scoffed, and she could see Harry twist nervously beside her. "I guess I will damn well go if I please," she said hotly.

"It's too dangerous."

She wanted to throttle him. She absolutely despised this attitude, and he knew it. "Excuse me," she said snidely, "but it's _Malfoy. _I hardly think there's anything he can do that I won't be able to handle myself against. In case you haven't noticed over the past, oh, I don't know, _lifetime, _I'm quite capable of taking care of myself!"

"I know that," he said plainly. "But you're not in the…" he searched for the right word, "condition to be putting yourself in unnecessary danger."

"Finding my daughter is hardly unnecessary!" she cried.

At the exact same moment, Harry finally spoke up, "Condition?"

His question stopped the other conversation flat. Hermione, for the twentieth time in the past ten minutes, wanted to kill her husband. Ron just looked like he couldn't even believe himself that he was such an idiot. They had decided not to tell anyone about the pregnancy yet. The only people who knew were the two of them, of course, and Hermione's mother who had obviously been there when she'd first found out. They didn't want people fussing over them when Rose was still missing; announcing a pregnancy would complicate things more than they were already.

So much for keeping _that _secret, though.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron, and he looked away uneasily, clearly knowing he was stupid. She cleared her throat loudly, forcing him to look at her again. They communicated wordlessly, and with a raise of her eyebrows, Hermione silently told him to do it.

Ron shifted nervously, then finally shook his head and said it. "Hermione's pregnant. But it's a secret and you can't tell," he added quickly.

Harry looked like he'd been hit in the head with a bludger. "Why aren't you telling anyone?" he asked, confused.

"Because no one needs to know right now," Hermione said simply. "We need to find Rose and _then _worry about that. But promise you won't say anything."

Harry looked conflicted. Finally, "I'm not going to lie to Ginny."

"She isn't going to ask!" Ron said hotly. "Just don't tell her." Then, with a narrow of his eyes, he added, "Ginny can't keep a secret."

"Apparently it runs in the family," Hermione interjected ruefully.

Ron turned a half-glare on her but continued speaking. "Look, Harry, we're serious. This doesn't need to get out right now."

Harry just looked confused, but he eventually relented nonetheless. "Fine, I won't say anything." He looked at Hermione then. "But Ron's right, you don't need to go with us."

Hermione could not believe her ears. She stood up and rounded on them, staring at them in complete disbelief. "Rose is my _daughter," _she said firmly. "I'm going to do anything that needs to be done to find her, and if that means going to see Draco bloody Malfoy, then that's what it means." Her voice left no room for argument. A little more quietly, though, she added, "And if either of you try to stop me, I swear I'll never forgive you."

Ron and Harry just looked at her, and then she watched as they turned their heads to look at each other. As easily as she and Ron could communicate wordlessly, so could the two of them. It was Ron who was made to go ahead and reply.

"Fine," he said, defeated. "But if we run into trouble, promise you'll leave."

Hermione wanted to promise no such thing, but she saw the look in Ron's eyes. It was a look of concern and caring, not one of a person who simply wanted to dictate his wife's movements. She understood why he was being that way, so she reluctantly nodded.

"I promise."

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Thanks for all the reviews! I'll try to get the next chapter up soon.


	6. Chapter 6

LOST

Chapter 6

I still don't own any part of the franchise.

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Draco Malfoy lived in a large house near the border of Scotland. It was more of a mansion, really, than a house, complete with rolling acres of land sprawling out around it in a rather beautiful landscape.

It was a bit sickening.

Harry Apparated to the front lawn and waited for Ron and Hermione to appear a moment later. Together, they stood staring at the scene in front of them. No one made an effort to move any closer to the house, and Harry wondered if they were both questioning their decision to come here the same way he currently was. What could Malfoy possibly do for them? They had to be crazy for thinking that he would ever willingly do anything that might be construed as helping them.

Ron seemed to be reading his mind.

"Let's just go," he said simply. "This is pointless."

Hermione, though, didn't seem to agree. "We have to at least try."

"But he's not going to _help _us," Ron argued. "You know that."

Hermione ignored him and took off across the yard at a quick pace, leaving them behind. Harry glanced at Ron, and then they both took off after her. The meeting had been arranged through third parties. None of them had actually _spoken _to Malfoy; rather, the Auror Department's secretary had spoken to Malfoy's wife and set up the meeting.

Harry was sure Malfoy was no more pleased about it than any of them were.

They reached the front stairs of the house and stood rather awkwardly on the stoop for a moment before Hermione reached up and rang the bell. A loud clanging sounded from deep within the house, and they waited anxiously until the door opened and a house-elf greeted them solemnly. The elf was dressed fully in clothes, signaling, of course, its freedom. That was almost solely Hermione's doing- the house-elves were free, and while many of them still chose to serve as domestic assistants, they were at least paid for their services. They also had the right to choose their employers and terminate their employment at any time. The Elves' Declaration of Freedom, as the official Act was known, was one of Hermione's proudest moments.

"Hello," she said pleasantly, reaching out to shake the elf's small hand. "I'm Hermione Weasley, and this is Ron Weasley and Harry Potter," she motioned to each as she spoke. "And we're here to see Mr. Malfoy. We have an appointment."

"Mrs. Weasley," the elf looked up at her in slight awe. "Such a pleasure to meet you!"

Hermione smiled widely. "A pleasure to meet you as well," she said honestly.

The elf, who introduced himself as Bander, led the three of them into the foyer of the house and asked them to wait while he announced their arrival. He hurried off down the corridor, and Harry looked around at the entryway. A grand staircase led to the upper floors of the house, leading up from the main entrance. It was garnered with gold trimmed carpet and shining gold banisters. The house was spotless; it definitely didn't look as if any children lived here, and Harry wondered if Scorpius was banned from leaving his room or if he was just an abnormally obedient and clean child. A family portrait hung on the center wall, a painting of Malfoy, his wife Astoria, and their son. Scorpius, Harry noted, looked rather uncomfortable in the painting and was shifting around quite irritably.

"D'you think this room cost more than our whole house or what?" Ron asked, sneering. "What a bloody show-off."

"It is a bit gaudy," Hermione admitted, her voice a low whisper.

"A bit horrifying is more like it," Ron said with disgust. "This is ridiculous."

Harry was about to agree, but Bander reappeared, bowing lowly in what Harry suspected was an old habit. "Mr. Malfoy is ready for you." He led them down the hallway toward the back of the house. Harry could hear Ron snicker as they passed a rather horrific sparkling statue of a mermaid, made, of course, of what appeared to be pure gold.

"Thank you, Bander," Hermione said appreciatively, shaking the elf's hand again as he led them to a door that apparently housed Malfoy's office.

"It is Bander's pleasure, Mrs. Weasley," he said eagerly, smiling broadly again as he held the door open and shut it behind them after they slipped inside.

A familiar voice greeted them from across the room.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Draco Malfoy had changed little over the years since they'd left Hogwarts. He was a tiny bit plumper, had a little less hair… but he was still rather pecky with the same pointed chin and pale gray eyes. His demeanor, bored and superior, hadn't changed, either. He stared at the visitors dully, almost lazily, and didn't even bother to rise from his seat.

Harry thought that perhaps they might be able to go about this maturely, but he realized old habits died hard as soon as he heard the response from beside him.

"Cut the shit, Malfoy," Ron spat out at once. "You know why we're here."

"I'm sure I don't," came the drawling response. "In all the years we've known each other, I do not believe any of you have ever visited me."

"What the fuck do you know about my daughter?" Ron was clearly in no mood to chit-chat.

"Well, I know she's in my son's year… from what I hear, she's a bit of a know-it-all, bit swotty, not that that's surprising, of course, given the obvious," he smirked in Hermione's direction. "Rose, I believe, is her name? Nice _common_ name…"

"If you don't fucking tell me exactly what you know, I swear to god I'll kill you." Harry had never heard Ron so serious about anything before in his entire life. His face was cold with hate, and Harry knew without a doubt that this meeting was not going to end well.

"Threats, Weasley," Malfoy said lazily, waving a hand dismissively. "We both know you aren't going to kill me."

"I've been wanting to kick your arse for damn near thirty years, you prick."

At this Malfoy stood up. Something in his face changed, and he went almost instantly from being blasé to being heated. "Then do it! If you've wanted to for so long, do it!" At that moment, he drew his wand out from the recesses of his jacket, and Harry, along with both Ron and Hermione, instinctively reached for their own. However, to all of their surprise, Malfoy dropped his, letting it fall to the floor with a light tinkering sound. "If it's thirty years in the making, then here's your chance." He held his hands up to show himself completely defenseless. "Kick my arse."

Harry began panicking almost immediately. He could foresee the end of this meeting, and it wasn't a good thing… He looked quickly to Hermione, silently bidding her to step in and control Ron. She was, after all, the only one who could calm him when he became irrational. To his mild horror, though, he saw the same hate written across her own face, and he watched in shock as she simply stepped aside to allow Ron easier access to their old enemy.

Just as Ron was about to lunge, Harry rushed forward and stopped him, gripping him by the shoulders and forcing him backwards with all of his might. "_Don't," _he said sharply.

Ron glared at him. "Get out of my way, Harry."

"Don't do this," he warned, hissing at him through clenched teeth. "He's not worth it."

"Leave him alone, Harry," Hermione said, her voice dead serious as she fixed the same glare on him that Ron currently possessed.

Harry was exhausted, not in the mood to deal with any of this. "Shut up, Hermione."

"Don't talk to her like that!" Ron shoved him. Hard.

It took all of Harry's willpower to simply stand his ground and not punch some of the irrationality out of his best friend. He had to stay in control of his situation, had to stay rational, as he knew Ron was capable of nothing of the sort given the situation and the man across the room from them.

A snicker could be heard from across the room, and all three of them momentarily stopped their arguing to turn around. Malfoy was smirking at them, shaking his head in what could have been disbelief.

"Still as dysfunctional as ever, you lot." He sighed loudly and shook his head once more. "Golden trio and all that bit… Clearly you still do more bickering than you do anything else."

At that moment, Draco Malfoy did what he'd always done best when the three of them were arguing- created a common enemy. The previous disagreement forgotten, Harry spun around angrily, wand still in his hand.

"Look, Malfoy," he said bitingly. "Stop fucking around and tell us what you know."

"I have no reason to do anything for you, Potter. I owe you nothing."

Harry took a step forward, closing the distance between them to almost nothing. "I saved your life once, Malfoy. Do you remember that?"

Malfoy glared at him for a brief moment and then calmly replied, "I believe it was the same day that my mother saved _yours, _Potter. And I don't believe you've ever thanked her…"

"One right doesn't make up for a million wrongs." Harry refused to break eyesight and felt slightly as though he'd gone back in time.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "My mother has never done _anything _to you. To any of you," he added, glancing away briefly to look daringly at Ron and Hermione.

"Your _mother," _Hermione said slowly, breaking into the conversation, "stood by and watched while her sister tortured me and tried to _kill _me." Silence filled the room for a long pause until Hermione finally spoke again, her voice rising to an unsteady pitch as she finished her statement. "_You _stood by and watched!"

Twenty years had passed since that night, but the memory of it was as clear in all of their minds as if it had happened moments before. No one spoke of it, but Harry could hear her screams as precisely as he could recall anything, could envision the look on Ron's face and the anguish in his voice as easily as it was yesterday.

The events of Malfoy Manor were just a tiny part of the secrets Harry, Ron, and Hermione shared about the war. They had never repeated them to anyone else, save the people who were at Shell Cottage. Even then, though, they hadn't revealed everything, no more than was necessary. Harry realized, disgusted, that it was a secret they shared almost solely with Malfoy. Besides his parents, there were no other people alive who knew exactly what had transposed during those hours.

But there was no time for silence then as Malfoy pushed past Harry and walked straight up to where Hermione was standing. "And what would you have had me do?" he demanded hatefully. "Sorry if I don't regard your life more highly than my own, Granger… Weasley- whatever the hell your name is now! But what really do you think I could have done?!"

"You could have done something!" she screamed, not backing down even an inch when he got in her face. "You just stood there!"

"Maybe you didn't notice, but I would have been killed without a second glance if I'd done anything!"

"So you stood there like a coward and let that bitch do whatever she wanted!" The accusation of cowardice was never one that was taken lightly. Hermione knew this, and Harry tore his eyes away from the sparring just quick enough to catch Ron's face. He was, for once, calm. He made no movement to throttle Malfoy, just looked on with a face slight with reminiscent pain.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Malfoy muttered, glancing down at his feet.

"I was just a kid!" Tears welled in Hermione's eyes as she spoke, and Harry hoped beyond hope that she didn't start to cry.

Malfoy's head snapped back up at her statement. "So was I! And you have no idea how any of it worked then! She would have killed my whole family without batting an eyelash!" He didn't even pause to breathe. "So put yourself in those shoes for just a second before you go off making accusations about which you know absolutely nothing!"

Silence rang loudly once again. Hermione and Malfoy stared at each other, tears still pooling in Hermione's eyes as she tried desperately to stop them falling. Ron said nothing, just stared at them silently. It was Harry, finally, who spoke. His voice was quiet and controlled.

"You have no right to expect sympathy for anything, Malfoy."

Without speaking, Malfoy turned slowly to face him. An unreadable look was written across his face, and Harry could see years of pent up anger resting just behind his eyes. A lifetime seemed to pass before he finally responded.

"I couldn't possibly want anything _less _than I want sympathy from any of _you_ about anything" He was almost whispering, his voice was so low.

"What do you know about Rose?" Hermione seemed to have gotten her tears under control, and she spoke quietly.

"What do you really think I would know?"

"You know something," Hermione said, still quietly.

"I haven't kidnapped your precious child if that's what you've got in your head," Malfoy scoffed. "Trust me, I've no need for a child with any of _those _genes." He looked disgustedly in Ron and Hermione's direction.

"No one said you kidnapped her," Harry broke in, cutting off the impending hurling of insults before it had a chance to go any further. "But you know something."

"You're mad, Potter."

"Who are you protecting?"

"I protect no one but myself and my family."

"Then what would you do if it was _your _child?" Hermione asked quickly. "What if it was Scorpius who was missing?"

Malfoy just sneered at her. "I would never lose _my_ child. But then again, I don't spend all my time working for worthless causes and neglecting my family, either."

"You fucking son of a bitch…" Ron spoke up for the first time in several minutes. It was obvious that Malfoy had not lost his touch for pouring salt into open wounds, a hundred recent newspaper headlines swam in all their minds.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows innocently. "Language, Weasley."

Ron was moving forward before anyone could react. Before Harry even knew what was happening, he had shoved Malfoy backwards and was trapping him against the wall. "If you don't tell me where my daughter is right now, I swear you'll regret it. I swear to _god_ you'll regret it." One hand held him pinned against the wall while the other gripped a wand tightly that was pointed straight at Malfoy's chin.

"Ron, stop!" Harry was relieved to see that this time Hermione reacted in at least an attempt to stop the mistake waiting to happen. Harry was thankful, as he realized that Ron could very easily lose control and end up doing something that would hurt him far more than help. Hermione rushed forward and pulled him backwards. He actually relented fairly easily; Hermione tended to have that effect where no one else could.

Malfoy, for what it was worth, struggled hurriedly to catch his breath and straighten his clothes. He did not attempt a retaliation, simply addressed them as a group. "I don't even know why you're here. I don't have anything to do with that child."

"Your best mate sure as hell seems to know plenty!" Harry answered angrily, not able to control his rising temper.

"My best mate?" Malfoy raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Who's my best mate?"

"Gregory Goyle," Harry answered darkly. "He claims to know everything."

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy crossed his arms and leaned backwards against the wall at which he was still standing. "First off," he said slowly, "I'd like to point out that the entire world is not as perfect as you three. My so-called _best mate _and I have probably spoken an entire three times in the past twenty years. Not everyone leaves school with a perfect _best friends forever _bond that truly does last forever and ever." He rolled his eyes again before continuing. "And second off, Goyle is full of shite."

"What do you mean?"

"His whole family is the same way, they always want to be important so they throw themselves into the thick of things to try and get attention. Actually, they're pretty much a useless lot of goons."

"Nice observation, Malfoy," Ron said hatefully. "Tell us something we _don't _know."

"_If _I may," Malfoy went on, shooting a mirroring glare in Ron's direction. "Anything Goyle told you about the so-called whereabouts of your daughter is probably total fodder. Or else some bit of information he picked up from his low spot on the gossip ladder."

"Then where is she?" Hermione asked desperately. Harry could tell from the look on her face that she was about to lose it.

"I'm sure I don't know," Malfoy shrugged. "If I were to wager a guess, I'd imagine she is probably with the Myters."

"I'm sorry, the who?" Harry wondered if Malfoy was planning a wild goose chase to send them on.

"The Myters?" Malfoy laughed. "Head of the Auror Department, and you've never heard of the Myters?"

"Who are they?"

"Men. And women, I suppose," Malfoy shrugged once more. "They're grooming a leader."

"What leader? They think they've got the next Voldemort amongst them?" Harry was dumbfounded, the idea was nearly laughable.

"Perhaps in their wildest dreams," Malfoy drawled on. "They're actually quite useless. Always trying to make a name for themselves… Apparently they've not done a bang up job if even the Auror Department hasn't heard of them."

"What would they want with Rose?"

Another laugh, and Malfoy shook his head in disbelief. "You can't be serious…" When no one jumped in to reply, he just continued to shake his head. "Please, kidnapping that child ensures that you three," he raised his eyebrows at them, "will respond. And of course, where the Chosen One and his mates go, the headlines follow."

"Why do you think they've got her?" Ron asked, his tone slightly less attacking.

"Probably because they've been planning something like this for ages. They want attention," he said simply.

"Are they dangerous?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Some of them are, I suppose. Probably less so than they'd like to be."

"If all they want is attention," Hermione broke in slowly, "then why haven't they come forward at all?"

Malfoy gave her another withering look. "I don't know," he drawled. "I haven't exactly been invited to their afternoon teas or anything."

"You seem to know enough," Ron replied suspiciously.

"What's to know?" Malfoy asked crossly. "They're a bunch of pathetic, whimpering idiots who don't know what they're doing. They probably haven't even asked for ransom, have they?" He was answered with the shaking of three heads. "Figures," he said, shaking his head.

"Look, Malfoy," Ron said, using what Harry thought was an amazing amount of self-control, "do you know where she is or not?"

"I don't know where she is, no," Malfoy said simply.

"Do you know names?"

"Not that I'm willing to share." Harry saw Ron move to raise his wand again, but Malfoy ignored him and continued. "It's not safe for my family for me to go round outing certain members of the community, you understand. I'm sure you'll agree that I've already given you a fair bit of pertinent information, no? Quite surely more than I was required to."

Harry could not argue with this. Quite frankly, he was surprised that Malfoy had offered them any sort of help, much less enough to give them a very strong lead. He was surprised and, he admitted to himself, grateful.

He wasn't the only one. Hermione stepped forward and drew in a breath. After a long moment, she managed two words that were undoubtedly very difficult for her. "Thank you," she said quietly.

Malfoy said nothing, just stared at her with a common amount of distaste and then looked away uneasily.

"If you'll all excuse me now," he said, clearing his throat, "I am rather busy."

He ushered them back to the corridor and called for Bander to show them out. The elf appeared just a moment later, and Harry noticed another body turning round the corner toward them. It was Scorpius, and Harry thought fleetingly that Malfoy could no more deny that child than he himself could deny Al. Though they were physically near clones of each other, Harry noticed that Scorpius did not share his father's permanent scowl.

The boy stopped when he noticed the visitors. His eyes traveled between them, and then he quietly made an observation. "You're Rose's parents." It was a statement, not a question.

Harry watched as Hermione answered, nodding just a bit. "Yes. You must be Scorpius."

Scorpius nodded. He said nothing for a moment and then finally, "I hope she's okay." He looked at Harry then, "And you're Al's dad."

It was weird for Harry to think about the kids having lives at Hogwarts. Scorpius didn't seem rotten or evil, and he wondered if Al and Rosie were friendly with him. He was undoubtedly in Slytherin, while both Rose and Al were Gryffindors, of course, but he supposed that they probably shared classes and were obviously at least aware of each other. Unaware, apparently, of their parents' feuding past.

"Scorpius, leave the visitors alone." Malfoy spoke clearly and authoritatively, though not quite as harshly as his own father had spoken to him as a child. "They have things they need to tend to."

Scorpius nodded obediently and offered up a half-hearted smile. "Tell Al I said hello," he said quietly. "And… when you see Rose… tell her hi, please."

He was an odd child, Harry decided. Very different from his father, despite the physical similarities.

Malfoy spoke up once more, placing a hand on his son's shoulder as he did. "Please remember that none of this information was obtained here," he said pointedly.

They stared at him for a long moment. Finally, Harry nodded in agreement. It was the least they could do. He was literally shocked, though, when he saw Ron take a tiny step forward. At first, he thought he was going to hit Malfoy or something, but he watched in disbelief as, after only a small hesitation, Ron thrust his hand out.

"Thanks," he muttered. Harry could tell it was literally killing him.

Malfoy didn't move at first, but after glancing cautiously at his son, he reluctantly took the offered hand and shook it quickly with an abrupt nod.

Both Ron and Malfoy looked as though they couldn't wait to wash their hands, but regardless, Harry was still in shock as they followed the house-elf to the exit.

He was positive that he had now seen everything in the world there was to see.

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I know that this chapter was just a tad bit shorter than the others, but I needed it to end where it did. Draco happens to be my absolute favorite character, so I tend to love writing him… I was very excited for this chapter and the way it wrote itself so quickly. Thanks again to everyone who has left reviews, they really do help with motivation!


	7. Chapter 7

LOST

Chapter 7

Yes, it still belongs to JK Rowling…

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Victoire Weasley was positive of one very important thing- she was absolutely completely and totally in love.

She sighed in contentment as an arm slipped over her waist and pulled her closer. Her eyes weren't even open, but she couldn't stop the ridiculous smile that covered her face when she felt lips brush the side of her neck.

Why couldn't she wake up like this _every _morning?

"Teddy Lupin," she said in her best stern voice, "you need to be careful where you put your hands so early in the morning!" She yelped with a giggle as the hand on her waist slipped dangerously low on her hip and squeezed.

"Yes, ma'am," he said obediently, grinning at her madly as she opened her eyes and stared at him.

"Your hair's pink," she observed.

Teddy just wrinkled his nose playfully. "Eh, it's this girl I know… it's her favorite color."

Victoire wondered how it was possible to smile so much when she hadn't even been awake five minutes. But her face seemed to have a mind of its own, and she felt herself grinning like a crazy woman.

This was brilliant, waking up this way.

"You, young lady," he said just as fake-sternly as she had earlier spoken, "should watch how much bare skin you show when the sun's barely up."

She laughed and obligingly pulled the blanket a little higher around her.

"I was just kidding,," he muttered jokingly. He raised his eyebrows as he grabbed hold of the blanket and deliberately pulled it a little lower. Victoire, scandalized, gave a little shriek in fake outrage.

"Don't _bite _me!" she ordered, laughing ridiculously as he nibbled at the skin in the middle of her neck.

"Can't help it," he shrugged one shoulder dismissively. "They say I've a bit of wolf in me apparently…"

Teddy cut off her pretend scolding by pressing his lips tightly against her own. He kissed her deliberately, and she felt it all the way to her toes. She _loved _when he kissed her like this. Then again, she loved when he did _anything _to her.

They'd been together for just over a year now, finally getting it together early last summer. She'd spent the majority of the past year at Hogwarts finishing up her last year and had missed him terribly. Now, though, she was done with school, and with N.E.W.T.s and graduation behind her, she had very little to worry about other than when she'd next get to kiss her boyfriend.

And they were definitely eager to make up for lost time.

Her parents weren't too happy about it, more specifically her father wasn't. He didn't think it was appropriate for her to be spending so much time with a boy, even if that boy was someone they'd all known since birth. He thought she ought to be at home planning her future, deciding which career she wanted to pursue and taking the proper steps to make said career happen.

Victoire, though, wasn't too much into the idea of a career right and didn't particularly care about her future too much. All she wanted to do was spend every possible moment with Teddy. She wanted to take quiet walks with him and, also, to do plenty of the naughty stuff they'd been getting up to for awhile now. Not that she would _ever _tell her parents that, of course, as she rather liked Teddy's head _on _his body.

Actually, she liked pretty much _everything _about his body, and she wasn't shy about telling him.

Of course, he didn't seem to mind hers too much, either…

"Renting a flat was the best idea I ever had." Teddy grinned at her wickedly before leaning in to kiss her again and rolling her over onto her back.

She agreed with him on that. This was amazing, being able to do whatever they wanted _whenever _they wanted. There was no more sneaking around or having to wait until the house was empty. The flat was _always _empty, and in the two weeks since Teddy had moved in, Victoire had snuck over every single night. She had to be careful to wait until after her family was asleep before Disapparating, but it was always worth it.

It was just a small flat, a bit dingy and it sort of smelled odd. But it was brilliant. It was a very adult thing to do, rent a flat, and Victoire felt that it was equally as adult to go visit one's boyfriend at his flat. She adored it and told him so all the time. She knew he was proud of himself for having it, and she didn't blame him. He worked for her uncle at Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, and she knew how hard it had been for him to save up the money for the flat. She was extremely proud of him.

He was snogging her senseless, and she wondered briefly how she was expected to breathe when he was kissing her like that. He was an _excellent _kisser, and he always managed to leave her panting. He wasn't her first boyfriend by a long shot, but he was definitely the only one who mattered. He was also the first one she'd done all of _that _with, and she didn't regret it even a tiny bit. In fact, she was so thankful that she'd never let herself get caught up with anyone before that she could hardly believe it; it was impossible for her to even imagine opening herself up to anyone else the way she did for Teddy.

Teddy, after all, was far more to her than just simply a boyfriend.

He'd been her very first playmate as a child. They'd literally grown up together, getting into trouble and teasing each other all their lives. He'd taken care of her when she'd first started Hogwarts and had always remained rather over-protective the whole time they were both there. He was almost like a brother, only a very, very _hot _brother who she always harbored a crush for.

Of course, she was two years younger than him, and as children and teenagers, two years could be rather significant. She spent years watching him date other girls, girls who were older than her and far more intelligent. He threatened all the boys she dated, letting them know that they'd have to answer to him if she ended up in tears. It was one of those times when she _did _end up in tears that they shared their first kiss.

Nathan Camden. She'd been dating him for over two months in her Fifth Year when she caught him with Jasmin Pangle in the Quidditch changing room. She'd shown up early for practice and had stumbled upon them doing things that definitely weren't Quidditch related. Not knowing what else to do, she'd run away. And straight into Teddy.

Through a string of tears, she'd told him everything.

She chased him back across the pitch begging him not to make a scene and to leave Nathan alone. He wasn't worth it, after all. She'd tried to reason with Teddy, telling him how much trouble he'd be in and how she didn't even care about Nathan and that Jasmin Pangle was nothing but a tart anyway…

But it hadn't stopped him. He marched straight into the changing room and punched Nathan right in the face.

After that, he'd grabbed Victoire's hand and pulled her back onto the pitch. She was still crying, and he stopped suddenly and turned to her.

"Vic," he'd said firmly, "you're the most beautiful girl in this entire school, and that boy is a blustering idiot."

She'd wanted to melt then, but it wasn't until a second later when he'd grabbed her by the face and kissed her soundly that she'd actually wobbled.

"And _that," _he'd said, referring to the kiss and pulling away to look at her, "is the way you deserve to be treated."

It had taken them more than a year after that to get it together. Things had been sort of weird during that time, awkward and a little annoying. But after her Sixth Year, he'd finally decided that she wasn't too young and that he liked her as much as she liked him…

And the rest was history.

Now, lying in bed with him as he kissed her senselessly, she wondered how she was ever expected to lie anywhere else. God, she was in love. It was the craziest, most wicked feeling in the entire world, and she never wanted it to end.

"I'm applying to the Auror Academy." The words were mumbled against the skin of her neck as he nibbled there lightly, but they stopped her mind from spinning out of control.

"Sorry, _what?" _she asked sharply, immediately placing her hands against his shoulders and pushing him up a bit.

"I want to be an Auror," he said simply. Simply. Like it wasn't a big deal or wasn't something that needed to be thought out and discussed.

"_Why?" _she asked disbelievingly.

Teddy looked at her oddly and then moved off of her to prop himself up on one arm. "Because it's cool. What's the big deal?"

Victoire couldn't believe him, couldn't believe he would even think such a question, much less ask it out loud. "The big deal," she said hotly, "is that being an Auror is only the most dangerous career you could possibly choose."

He just stared at her for a long moment. "Harry thinks it's a good idea."

At this, Victoire actually rolled her eyes and sat all the way up, holding the blanket to her to hide skin she'd let him have free reign over just seconds before. "Of course he does," she said bitingly. "He wants you to be just like him."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"You're not Harry Potter!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Teddy, though, glared at her. "I don't think I ever said I was," he said coldly. She realized immediately that she had offended him, and a wave of guilt washed over her.

"Teddy, I didn't mean it like that," she said honestly, her voice much more gentle now. "Honest. Please don't be mad…"

She knew what she'd done, and she hated herself for it. She'd inadvertently played into Teddy's biggest insecurity. As an orphan, he had been raised primarily by his grandmother. His other largest influence, though, had come from his godfather- her own Uncle Harry. Harry had been there for Teddy his whole life, had taught him to fly, taken him to Quidditch matches, spoiled him rotten with presents…

And then he'd had his own kids.

He was still there for Teddy, still took care of him and bought him things… but he grew busier and busier with the addition of each of his children. Victoire knew how Teddy had felt left out, she'd witnessed it with her own eyes; he'd even confessed to her once when they were much younger that he wished James had never been born. She always thought it was odd that he could feel so left out when his godfather still did plenty of things for him. She thought it was odd that he could feel even the least bit inadequate given the fact that all of Uncle Harry's kids practically hero-worshipped him- especially James who, Victoire was sure, had at one point believed that Teddy actually hung the moon. Teddy no longer had any sort of adverse feelings for James or for the other kids, and he treated them much the same as she treated her own younger siblings.

Still, though, she knew how eager Teddy was to impress Harry, how he spent his whole life trying to do exactly that.

The Auror thing made perfect sense.

Teddy's feelings were hurt, she could tell. He wasn't crying, of course, or anything like that. But he was quiet and sullen. She ran a hand through his hair and watched it go from pink to brown at her touch. "Love, I'm sorry," she whispered, leaning over to kiss him. He did not reciprocate.

"My mum was an Auror," he said quietly. "It's not just Harry."

"I know," she said quietly. And she did know. She knew all about his parents and the Order and all of that. She was even named for his mother, something she rather detested, but still. Victoire Nymphadora. It was no wonder everyone called her Tonks- it really was a _horrid_ name. Hoping to appease him, she kissed him again. "It's just that I would worry about you so much," she said honestly.

"Vic, I'll be fine," he said sincerely, meeting her eyes. "I just want to _do _something with my life. I've been out of school for two years, and I'm still working at a joke shop."

"_Running _a joke shop," she corrected. And it was true, he was pretty much in charge of the Diagon Alley branch of Wheezes, a world different from simply working behind the counter.

"Still," he said, running a thumb across her knuckles, "I want to do my own thing."

She understood, and she was just about to tell him that when an abrupt pop was hear outside followed by a loud insistent knocking.

"What the-" Teddy sat up, and they looked at each other questioningly. Rolling out of bed and pulling on a pair of pajama bottoms, he left her and went to the door. She followed quickly, wrapping a sheet around her and standing just inside the hallway.

She wanted to _die _when he opened the door.

"Have you zeen my daughter?"

"Oh, shit." Victoire was not sure whether the swear had come from her or from Teddy or perhaps from both, but she watched in horror as her mum spotted her before she had a chance to hide or Disapparate.

"Oh mon Dieu!"

Victoire _really _wanted to die as her mother pushed her way into the room and started blessing her out in French. Really the only time her mother reverted to her native language was when she was very excited, either in a good way or a bad way. When she was angry and started speaking in quick French, Victoire knew she was in trouble. She was going off now, and Victoire saw Teddy looking on with a confused look on his face, clearly not understanding a word of what was being said.

"Mum, _please!" _she hissed desperately, feeling her face flush instantly and hating the stupid Weasley blush she was cursed with.

Her mother, though, cut her off quickly with a very sharp, "Tais-toi!"

Victoire did as she was told and shut up as her mother grabbed her by the arm and pushed her into the connecting bedroom. Tears were beginning to well in her eyes, and she pulled the sheet to her more tightly, completely aware of the fact that she had just been caught naked in her boyfriend's flat when she was supposed to be at home.

Her mother continued the tirade, and Victoire felt the tears come on stronger.

"Mum, English, _please!" _she whispered. Her French was fair but certainly left a lot to be desired. If she was going to be blessed out, she at least wanted to understand it fully.

"What do you zeenk you are doing?" her mother demanded, in English at least, though her accent was still coming through more strongly than normal.

"Mum, I'm an adult," Victoire said firmly, thankful at least that the door to the bedroom was shut even though she knew Teddy could still probably hear them.

"You do not act like one! Sneaking off in ze night to be wiz zis boy!"

"He's my _boyfriend."_

"Eet eez not appropriate," her mother said sternly. "Your father will be 'orrified!"

"Don't tell him," Victoire pleaded. "I'm sorry, I swear it won't happen again!"

Her mother looked at her with something close to disgust, perhaps it was intense disappointment. She said nothing for a long moment, and then finally, "Get dressed. You need to be back at ze 'ouse at once. Zey have news on Rose."

Victoire looked up quickly. "Did they find her?"

Her mum just shook her head. "No, but zey have news. We are going to Ron and 'ermione's, you should meet us zere."

Victoire bit her lip. "Should Teddy come as well?" she asked quietly.

Her mother said nothing and then rolled her eyes. "Eef 'e 'as clothes on, I suppose."

With another disparaging look at her daughter, she Disapparated.

Teddy, obviously having heard the pop of the Disapparation, peeked his head into the bedroom nervously. "Is she gone?"

Victoire nodded, thoroughly humiliated. It wasn't as if this was the first time he'd ever seen her get scolded. They grew up together after all, and he'd witnessed her in trouble plenty of times in the past. However, she felt much more embarrassed now than she ever had as a kid. It was humiliating enough to be scolded like a child when she was legally an adult, but it was even more humiliating given the situation they'd been caught in.

"She's pretty pissed, huh?" he asked carefully as he crossed the room.

Victoire just nodded again, feeling her cheeks as hot as ever.

"Is she going to tell your dad?" She could tell by the tone of his voice that he was worried, that he was scared of the reaction her father was sure to have. She, too, was scared. Her father was generally a very calm and rational man, but he was a bit over-protective when it came to his children, specifically herself and Dominique.

"I don't know," she replied quietly, gathering her clothes so that she could get dressed. "I asked her not to."

Teddy nodded. "So, you have to go home now?"

"I'm going to Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione's," she started pulling her clothes on quickly. "They've got news on Rosie."

"Really?" Teddy sounded hopeful. "Do they know where she is?"

"I don't think so, Mum didn't really say much."

"Can I go with you?" he asked eagerly. He'd been anxious to help with the search effort ever since Rose had first disappeared. He was very involved with her family, and he always helped whenever there was a problem.

She told him that he could join her, and they finished getting dressed as quickly as possible.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, referring to her mother's recent display.

Teddy just looked at her sympathetically and offered her an encouraging smile. "'s okay, love." He grabbed both of her hands in his and pressed a quick kiss to her lips before leaning back and winking. His hair turned back to pink, and he Disapparated.

Victoire wondered if it was wrong for her to enjoy his kisses so much when her little cousin was somewhere probably terrified and miserable. She felt more than a little guilty, but she couldn't stop the ridiculous smile that seemed to plaster itself to her face with a sticking charm.

Taking a deep breath, she spun on the spot and headed for her aunt and uncle's home.

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Sometimes Hugo hated being a kid.

He hated several things about it. He hated having to go to bed early, hated having to clean his plate and eat things he didn't like, hated having no say over half the things he did. Mostly, though, he hated being banished to the backyard whenever the adults got together to discuss important things.

His house was packed full of people. Almost his entire family was there, not to mention several of their friends. Unsurprisingly, he was forced outside along with the other kids. He knew what the adults were talking about, though, and he didn't understand why nobody seemed to think he should be allowed to join the conversation. Rose _was _his sister, after all, and even if they all seemed to think they'd done a good job of keeping him in the dark, he knew what was going on.

She'd been kidnapped.

His parents had stopped taking the paper a couple of weeks ago, but that hadn't stopped him from getting hold of copies from elsewhere. He didn't see why they all insisted on acting as if she'd simply gone over to a friend's house for a month, which was, he was positive, probably the story they would try to sell him if he were to actually ask where Rose was. But he didn't ask. He wasn't sure why he had never brought it up, but there'd always been something to stop him.

Now, they just all walked around uneasily, whispering whenever he was in the room and sending him outside if they needed to talk.

It was bloody irritating!

It was sunny and hot outside, and he glanced around at his cousins and the few "honorary cousins" who had been forced to join him outside. Some of the older ones had been allowed to stay inside- Victoire, of course, not to mention Dominique, Molly, and Lucy. Hugo didn't find this particularly fair, as Lucy was the same age as Fred, and he hadn't been allowed to stay. Fred seemed to share his opinion and had gone so far as to scream it at his mum before she'd threatened him sharply and literally pushed him out the door. He was in a particularly foul mood now as a result and was being rather awful toward the younger kids. Hugo was staying as far away from him as possible.

He was, instead, watching Al and James who were arguing loudly over something in the corner of the yard. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he didn't really want to move closer and risk getting involved, either. He could tell that they were both extremely upset about something from the way they were raging at each other. It wasn't unusual for them to be arguing, of course, as they were brothers and very nearly opposites of each other. However, it _was _unusual for them to be doing so when there plenty of other people around to distract them. James usually just ignored Al whenever Fred was around, unless, of course, the two of them were playing some awful prank on the younger boy. And Al was rather good at ignoring his older brother most of the time, especially when there were other people around.

They'd been into it a lot lately, though. Hugo knew this because he spent nearly every day at their house, as his parents dropped him off there while they went and did whatever it was that they were doing to find Rose. James and Al were at each other's throats ninety percent of the time these days, and nothing their parents did seemed to be working. Hugo tried to stay out of their way as best as possible, as he, too, didn't want to be in trouble for getting pulled into their bickering. However, he was also curious as to what had them both so wound up.

He looked around to find Lily and spotted her laughing with Amanda and the twins. Amanda, who was Neville and Hannah's only daughter, was giggling loudly in that annoying sort of tone she had. Hugo had never particularly cared for Amanda and found her rather bothersome, but she and Lily were friends so he was forced to put up with her on occasion. Luna's kids, Lorca and Lysander, were much more entertaining than Amanda. He got on with them great and always enjoyed their company. They greeted him brightly when he joined their little party.

The twins, who were a year older than him, were in the middle of telling some crazy tale that their grandfather had recently told them. They were laughing hysterically as they relayed it, snickering at their grandfather's sincere belief in such ridiculousness. Hugo listened to the story a bit and joined in on the laughter. It really was a good one, even Amanda's annoying high-pitched giggle couldn't spoil it.

It wasn't until they heard Al's voice let out a string of loud swearing that they all stopped and looked over in shock.

Al, who was by far the quietest and most reserved of all his siblings, did not normally use language like that, much less scream it with such fury. Everyone in the yard stopped what they were doing and gaped at him. James muttered something at him that no one else could make out, but whatever it was must have been awful, as Al lunged at him the very next second and shoved him to the ground.

Everyone was in shock. As much as Al and James bickered, it was a very rare occasion that either of them actually used physical force to get their point across. Hugo, who had been around them constantly his entire life, could probably count the number of times he'd seen anything like this on one hand. They were full-out fighting now, though, and Hugo watched horrified as they rolled around on the ground angrily, both trying to get the upper hand.

Lily jumped up and raced over to her brothers, a look of worry evident all over her face. Hugo followed her quickly, breaking into a run. Fred, too, rushed to the scene.

Al, who was definitely the smaller of the two- both by several inches and several pounds, lost the fight for the upper-hand and found himself pinned to the ground by his older brother who managed to straddle him and land a punch straight to his nose. Al's glasses lay lost and broken in the grass beside him, but this did not seem to impede his attempts to fight back, as he clawed angrily at James' face.

"_Stop!" _Lily cried hysterically. Her brothers did not seem to hear her. "Jamie, please!" she screamed, stepping up and trying to do something to stop the fight. James just shoved her aside with a single push that sent her tumbling backwards and onto the ground. Tears welled in her eyes as she got to her feet and looked on at the fight that seemed to get worse by the second.

When Fred reached forward to try and pull James away, he was met with a, "Get off me!" and shrugged away heatedly.

The noise from the commotion apparently reached inside the house, though, as the back door flew open and several adults came flying out, including both of James and Al's parents. The boys continued to scream and swear at each other, as well as try to rip each other's heads off, while the adults approached them. Hugo was not sure if they did not realize their parents were there or if they simply did not care, but the fight ceased a brief moment later when Uncle Harry finally managed to separate them, pulling James back with what appeared to be a great amount of force.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded, gripping James by the shoulders tightly and shaking him.

"He started it!" James defended hotly, his whole face was red and sweaty, and Hugo could see several scratches on his cheek.

Aunt Ginny had pulled Al to his feet and was busy trying to wipe away some of the blood that was still pouring from his nose and down to his chin. He was crying, tears streaking down his face in silent, broken sobs that Hugo was positive had nothing to do with his busted nose.

"This is unacceptable," Uncle Harry said, his voice low and threatening as he dug his fingertips deeper into James' shoulders.

"He's _smaller _than you!" Aunt Ginny cried, glaring slightly at James as she busied herself trying to get Al cleaned up.

"He _started _it!" James yelled once more, this time at his mum with a tone he should have known would get him in trouble.

"Don't you dare speak to your mother like that, young man!" his dad said sharply, and Hugo half-expected him to get slapped right there.

James, though, just yanked his arm away and glared back boldly. "You _always _take his side!" he accused heatedly. "It's such _bullshit!" _He turned then and took off running across the yard.

"James!" his father called to no avail. "_James Sirius Potter!"_ Even the full-name calling didn't get him to slow down, and he ran into the house, slamming the door behind him. Uncle Harry went after him, taking off at his own quick speed as he tried to catch up.

Hugo knew his cousin was in trouble, both for fighting and now for swearing at his parents. He thought it was a bit unfair, and he said so.

"Al _did _start it," he said quietly, watching as Aunt Ginny used her wand to stop the bleeding and fix the now shattered glasses.

"Hugo," his mum said quickly, giving her head a little shake to signal that he shouldn't get involved.

"But he _did," _he said earnestly. Al didn't look at him, and he could see that tears were still flowing silently from his eyes.

He felt a hand on his arm, another signal that he should be quiet and stay out of it. He didn't think it was fair at all. He watched Aunt Ginny lead Al back towards the house as well, and he knew that James was going to get all of the blame.

He didn't understand why adults acted like that- why they played favorites and acted as though they themselves had never been kids. He was right fed up with the whole lot of them at the moment, and he'd pretty much had enough.

"Where's Rose?" he demanded, asking the question for the first time since his sister had gone missing.

He watched as his parents exchanged uneasy looks, and he knew they were wishing there was no audience, as everyone looked on silently.

"Hugo-" his mum reached out for his arm again, but he stepped away from her.

"No, where _is _she?" he asked again.

He was met by no response. He wasn't surprised, he knew his parents didn't have the guts to admit the truth to him. Silence hung heavily in the air, almost deafening. Everyone who stood around was still in shock from the fight and was now looking on cautiously.

When it was clear that he was getting no answer, he just shook his head in disgust and made his own way back to the house. He heard his mother call for him, but he figured if James could get by with ignoring his parents, so could he. It wasn't fair, any of it. They treated him as though he was three years old, and he hated it.

He had as much of a right as anyone to know what was going on with his sister, and it infuriated him that no one seemed to realize this. His parents were full of crap, trying to pretend that he was a baby and couldn't handle the truth. They didn't have any right to lie to him, and it made him angry that they would even try.

Climbing the stairs to his room, he briefly wondered if he, too, was going to be in trouble like his cousins. He had, after all, walked away and ignored his parents, something they certainly weren't too pleased about. However, he didn't really care. If they wanted to get mad at him because they were liars, then he couldn't really stop them.

What he _could _do, though, was take matters into his own hands. If his parents weren't going to tell him what they knew about Rose, he'd just have to find out on his own…

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Thanks for the reviews!


	8. Chapter 8

LOST

Chapter 8

Everything involved in this story belongs to JK Rowling.

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Harry was exhausted.

It seemed lately as though he couldn't catch a break. He'd been so preoccupied with finding Rose that he'd been missing out on quite a bit at home. It was ironic that the second he finally got a real lead on Rose, everything else at home seemed to crumble.

His kids were fighting. More specifically, his sons were fighting, though he was sure Lily would get involved if they'd let her. He was at a complete loss as to why they were acting that way or even what they were arguing over. The fight at Ron and Hermione's had put the whole family on edge, and he simply did not know what to do.

Al wouldn't say what the reason was and clammed up whenever the subject arose. James, meanwhile, wasn't speaking to him _at all. _It didn't even matter that he was being punished, as Harry was positive he would have stayed shut up in his room with the music turned all the way up even if they'd let him off. For the record, they hadn't let either of the boys off, and they were both given equal restrictions. However, it didn't really seem to be having an effect on either of them. Al was quiet enough as it was anyway and just gave muttered responses to attempted conversation. James, on the other hand, outright ignored any and all conversation attempts and pretended instead that his parents simply did not exist.

Harry didn't know what to do. It was irritating him to no end, and he'd threatened to extend the punishment by another two weeks if James didn't stop acting that way. James, in response, had simply turned his wireless up and closed his eyes. It was infuriating. Harry did not know what else to do. He tried to do right by his kids, but they were so bloody annoying sometimes that he couldn't stand it. He didn't know _what _he was supposed to do and found himself wondering what his own parents would have done if they'd been around while he was a teenager.

On top of having to deal with James and Al, though, Harry was also faced with the task of having to deal with Teddy. Not that he really had to _do _anything when it came to Teddy, but he was still concerned. His godson had confessed to him that he'd been caught in a rather compromising situation. Fleur had caught Victoire over at Teddy's apartment, and from what Harry understood, there were more than enough clues to lead Fleur to rightly guess that her daughter and her boyfriend had been up to rather inappropriate things. Harry didn't know what to do about that situation, either.

Teddy, of course, was far past the age of being punished, not that there would have been any just cause anyway, as he was very much an adult and very much old enough to partake in such activities if he so chose. Harry wasn't naïve enough to believe that such activities were even remotely new experiences for his godson, nor did he find anything particularly wrong with it. The problem, of course, was the girl with whom Teddy was apparently choosing to partake in such activities with.

Victoire, too, was an adult, though still younger than Teddy. Regardless, though, she _was _technically of age, and as so, she did have the right to make her own decisions. However, she was also Harry's niece, and he didn't particularly find the thought of her being with any boy too appealing, even if that boy _was _his godson. They'd been dating for awhile, much longer than either of them had ever dated anyone else, and Harry knew from conversations with Teddy that their relationship was far from simply a superficial one. Still, though, it put everyone in a rather odd situation. Everyone naturally felt protective over Victoire and naturally assumed that anything that happened between her and Teddy would inevitably be his fault. He was as close to family as it was possible to get without actually sharing a bloodline, but it still didn't stop everyone being suspicious of him when it came to one of their girls. The situation was very similar to what his own had once been, and he wondered if he had garnered the same suspicions when he and Ginny had been dating…

Regardless, of course, there was also Bill to think about.

Victoire sneaking out and Teddy allowing her to stay with him was bad enough. Fleur catching them was even worse. If she told Bill… well, Harry wasn't sure Teddy would live to tell the tale. Bill had always been extremely level-headed and rational the entire time Harry had known him. It wasn't until Victoire turned about thirteen that he started showing signs of slight madness. No one could blame him, though, as his daughter blossomed from beautiful little girl to absolutely stunning young woman. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that she was garnering all sorts of attention from the boys at school, most of whom probably had one thing and one thing only on their minds. Dominique, only a year younger than her sister, was not far behind, and Bill's slight madness turned into total madness. At least where they were concerned.

Harry did not envy him for having two beautiful teenage daughters, and he also did not blame him for being suspicious of each and every bloke who came round showing interest in the girls. He was not looking forward to the day when Lily started writing home about boys, and he was not sure he would handle himself any better than Bill did. In fact, he'd probably be worse.

So it was with that knowledge that Harry had advised Teddy to simply pray Fleur did not tell. It was the only way he could guarantee that his godson would stay a member of the living. He also advised him to stop inviting Victoire for overnight visits and to be extremely cautious when it came to engaging in those sort of activities. The last thing he needed, Harry cautioned, was to get caught up in something he wasn't prepared for; it wasn't worth the risk to go round making mistakes like that.

His head hurt as he realized he would probably have to have the same conversation with James before long.

Granted, of course, James started speaking to him again sometime within the next two or three years.

Ginny told him not to stress over the situation with the boys. They would work it out, she assured him. After all, she reminded him, she had six older brothers; she _knew _how they were. Deep down, Harry knew, or at least hoped, that she was right. It didn't make it easier for him to deal with the situation, though, especially the bit about James giving him the silent treatment.

Truthfully, Harry was sorry he had jumped to conclusions after the fight and accused James before he had the entire story. But still, James was bigger and older, and he should have known better. He also should have known better than to speak to his parents that way, though Harry could imagine the frustration… It was confusing and just an all-around tough situation.

He sighed to himself and let his head drop into his hands. The paperwork on his desk fluttered around him at the movement. He'd brought his work home with him, something he normally tried not to do, as he didn't like mixing the two. However, Ginny was insistent that she was going to keel over if she didn't get out of the house and away from the kids at least for a little while. She'd gone shopping instead, claiming a much needed and deserved break. So he'd had no choice but to bring the work home and do it there, as leaving the boys alone at this point was absolutely unthinkable. Harry wasn't quite sure he could trust them to both be alive when they returned if they _did _let them stay by themselves.

Ever since they'd visited Malfoy early in the week, Harry had been working endlessly to try to find out something about the so-called Myters, but he was beginning to grow more than a little frustrated. There didn't seem to be _anything _about them anywhere he looked. Hermione, of course, was burying herself in a tunnel of research, reading any and everything that she could get her hands on if she thought it might have some sort of clue. She, too, was coming up empty-handed. Ron had unsurprisingly decided to take the opposite approach and was going after anyone they could think of who might be privy to the same information Malfoy had given them and was demanding answers. No one seemed quite as willing, though, as Malfoy had been to give them any clues.

It seemed as if they couldn't run anywhere except into dead ends.

He was momentarily distracted as the fireplace lit up across from him and two people stepped out of the flames. Ron was there, with a rather irritated Hugo in tow.

He looked at them questioningly, and Ron sighed loudly. "We came to visit," he said simply, and Harry thought that perhaps there was something else in his look that he was supposed to read and understand. Ron's eyebrows were raised just slightly, and Harry took that to mean that they needed to speak privately.

"Oh," he said, nodding and addressing his nephew. "Lily's in her room."

Hugo gave him a rather withering look and then turned the same on his father before rolling his eyes and walking from the office and loudly up the stairs outside.

"What's his problem?" Harry asked as Ron slid into the other chair.

"Search me. He's been acting like that for days."

Harry rolled his own eyes. "Welcome to my world."

"James still not talking?"

He shook his head. "No. Not even a fuck you."

"Well, Hugo talks… though it's usually something rather hateful," Ron shrugged. "Hermione's about to lose it again, even though I told her not to worry about him."

"Ginny says the same thing about the boys…"

"That's because we know how it works," he said pointedly. It was true, Ron and Ginny definitely knew what they were talking about when it came to sibling relationships. He and Hermione always tended to overreact a bit, but this was not surprising seeing as how they were both only children.

"Where is Hermione anyway?"

"She's at the Ministry, I think. Trying to get access to some old Death Eater files or something."

"What does she want with those?"

Ron shrugged again. "She reckons that some of the ones who got off after the war might be into this Myter business."

Harry didn't necessarily agree. "They're all like sixty or older now, surely they aren't still caught up with that mess."

"Maybe their kids, I don't know. I think she's just grasping."

Harry did not blame her. It wasn't as if anything he was looking into was giving them any hope, so he supposed it couldn't be a bad thing to cover all of their bases. "Did you decide not to go to work today?" he asked, realizing for the first time that it was still the middle of the day.

"Took the day off," Ron leaned back in his chair and reached into his jacket. He pulled out a bottle of Ogden's and held it up pointedly. "Figured we should have a break."

"I knew there was a reason you were my best mate," Harry said fleetingly as he conjured a pair of shot glasses.

"What, you mean it's not my dashing good looks and charming personality?"

Harry snorted. "Not quite."

"Oh, well." Ron shrugged as he scooted his chair closer to the desk to pour the drinks. "Cheers."

They both held their shots up and toasted each other quickly before downing the whiskey. It burned, as good firewhiskey should, and Harry felt it warm him from the inside out almost instantly.

"So," he said, reaching for the bottle and topping their glasses off again. "Hermione's pregnant."

Ron looked at him darkly for a moment before downing the second shot. "Apparently."

"How did that one happen?"

"Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much…"

Harry picked up a quill and aimed it at Ron's head. "You know what I mean," he said, trying to erase even the joking image from his head.

Ron ducked and shrugged as he sat back up. "It was just a mistake, I guess."

"So you didn't plan on it?"

"Plan on it?" Ron laughed. "Plan on having another child when we can't even keep up with the ones we've got? Hardly."

Harry realized he'd touched on something and wished he'd never brought it up. "Well, it'll be nice," he said carefully, attempting to change the tone. "Having another baby around, I mean."

Ron did not look as though he agreed, and Harry understood why. He was lying when he said it would be nice. He couldn't think of anything he'd want less at the moment than another baby. He was happy that his children were older, though not quite sure they were any easier… But he definitely didn't want to have to deal with nappies and bottles again.

He also knew that Ron and Hermione had only ever wanted two children and had gotten exactly what they'd wanted. They did not, he knew, have any desire to add more members to their household, especially given the current situation.

"Did you tell Hugo yet?"

Ron shook his head. "No. Hugo would tell everyone. Besides, I don't really feel like having that conversation with him right now."

"Fleur caught Teddy and Victoire," Harry said out of nowhere.

Ron looked up curiously. "Caught them what?"

Harry just looked at him, raising an eyebrow and tossing back another shot. "Let's just say they weren't baking apple crisp."

"You're kidding!" Ron couldn't hide the amused look on his face. "What'd she do?"

"Teddy said she came in swearing in French or something."

"Brilliant," Ron laughed. "How'd Bill take it?"

"Well, last I checked, Teddy was still alive, so I don't think he's heard yet."

Ron continued to smirk and poured them another round. "Well, as long as he doesn't knock her up…"

Harry raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly in agreement. "Yeah…"

The two continued their chat, talking about everything _except _Rose. As much as they both loved her, they also needed a bit of a break. It had been a month since she'd been gone, and they'd very nearly spent every moment of every day thinking about her and talking about her. It was nice to talk about something else for awhile, even if it was just briefly.

An hour later, they'd finished off nearly the whole bottle of Ogden's and were both definitely feeling the effects. Harry could tell from the way that Ron's eyes were starting to cloud that he was succumbing to the effects of the alcohol in much the same way that Harry himself was. It was nice to have that sort of escape, to spend just a little while not thinking about the mess that was currently life.

Of course, that sort of escape could only last for so long. Harry should have known it was coming after Ron stayed quiet for a bit too long. Ron staying quiet for more than a few minutes was always a sign that something was amiss, and today proved no different.

"D'you think we're bad parents?" The question seemed to come out of nowhere, and Harry looked up to see Ron lightly tapping the shot glass against the top of the desk.

Feeling drowsy from the whiskey, Harry shrugged and lay his head down. "I dunno. My kids won't even talk to me."

Pushing his arm out and dropping his own head to the desk, Ron continued to fiddle with the glass. "I'll see you the not talking bit and raise you a lost one."

Harry ran a hand through his hair and felt it stand up. "I don't even know what I'm doing," he admitted quietly. "I don't know what's good and what's bad because I don't even have anything to compare it to."

"Well, I've got plenty to compare it to," Ron replied, understanding him completely. "And I still managed to fuck it up."

"You didn't fuck it up."

"How many other people do you know who lose their kids?" he asked dully.

Harry realized that he hadn't really talked to Ron or Hermione about the current situation. Obviously he'd _talked _to them, but it was always more of a business way. He hadn't really sat down and asked how either of them were feeling, and he felt sort of guilty for it.

"Ron, you didn't _lose _her," he said quietly, turning his head so that he could look straight at him. "She was _kidnapped."_

"Kidnapped because I let her run off and lost her," he said stonily. Neither of them spoke for a moment, and then Ron gave a little sigh. "Do you know that the last time I saw her, I yelled at her?"

Harry didn't say anything, he just watched as Ron sat up and closed his eyes as he ran his own hands through his hair and then propped his elbows on the desk, resting his head in his palms.

"I yelled at her," he repeated. "I don't even remember what about. But I was mad at her. That's the last time I saw her…"

Harry hadn't known this. Of course, he had avoided this conversation on purpose. Ron was and always had been his best friend. They'd grown up together and been through more together than most people would ever dream of. But they'd never been the best at sharing their feelings with each other. It wasn't that they _couldn't _talk about those things, and on occasion they had… But still, it wasn't something they practiced on a regular basis. It was difficult.

A heavy silence loomed over them. Finally, Harry made his own confession. "Jamie's mad at me because he thinks I played favorites, and he's right."

Ron just looked at him.

"I mean…" Harry tried to find the right words, "I don't know what I mean." He struggled to make sense of what he was trying to say. "Not favorites so much, but… Al is so much easier, you know? And… I don't know what to do with James half the time."

They were so different, the boys. Al was easy, he was quiet and shy and hardly ever any trouble. He was responsible and mature and did things without having to be told. James was… well, he was pretty much the opposite. He was loud and outgoing and always a handful. He was sometimes rude and often took tones he shouldn't. He was constantly in trouble in school, and they were always getting owls letting them know of detentions and extra work he'd been assigned. And they'd always been that way, even when they were small- Jamie stayed in trouble all the time, while they hardly ever had to discipline Al.

So it was difficult _not _to lay the blame on James when things went wrong. Harry did feel guilty for jumping the gun, but it was reflex. He got so fed up with James' attitude sometimes that it was really hard not to snap completely. He tried to be patient, tried to allow for teenage angst and puberty and all the rest of that mess, tried to remember that he himself had been _far _from sunshine and lollipops at that age… but it was hard.

He really was an awful father.

The door to the office swung open then, and Ginny entered. She looked refreshed and pleasant and not stressed at all- a day of shopping could really do wonders for her mood.

"Well, isn't this an adorable little love-fest?" she said, grinning at them with fake sweetness. "You two are just _so _cute."

Ron rolled his eyes and sat up. Harry just watched as she settled herself onto the desk and emptied the remainder of the firewhiskey with a single chug.

"Nice, Gin," Ron said sarcastically.

Ginny just shrugged and set the empty bottle down. "You don't need it. You two look pissed enough as it is."

She was right. Harry was past the point of feeling pleasantly numb and was to the point of just feeling ill. His head felt as though it weighed ninety pounds.

"I'm going home," Ron announced, sitting all the way up and calling for Hugo. "Hermione should be home, I think." He shrugged. "Maybe, I don't know really…"

Harry caught Ginny's half-amused look as she watched him.

Hugo showed up a minute or so later, still looking rather displeased. When Ginny tried to greet him, he simply glared at her and stood around impatiently while Ron readied the Floo.

After they left, Ginny let out a low whistle. "Whoa, what's up Hugo's arse?"

Harry shook his head. "Not a clue."

She grinned at him for a moment and then slid off the desk and onto his lap. "I'm glad you're home."

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her back into him. She settled there perfectly. "So am I."

He'd always felt guilty about being away from home so much, now more than ever. Ginny understood, of course, how important his work was, especially now with the whole Rose thing. She never complained, but he could tell she got irritated sometimes. He worked _a lot, _something she was accustomed to and accepted. However, he knew that his being away so often was unfair to her. She sacrificed a lot for him, and he knew it.

"Do you think I'm a bad father?" he asked suddenly, drawing from his earlier conversation with Ron.

Ginny leaned up a bit and turned around to look at him. "What're you on about?"

"James hates me."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "James hates everyone except for the person he sees in the mirror. He'll get over it."

"They won't even tell us what's wrong."

"They're kids," Ginny said bluntly. "Kids don't talk to their parents."

"Why not?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Ginny just shrugged. "Because they're kids, and they know everything. And adults are stupid and know nothing."

Harry could not relate to this. When he'd been his son's age, he was positive that he would have given up anything in the world to be able to talk to his parents just for a few moments. He was unfamiliar with the parent/child dynamic, he realized, because he'd grown up without it.

"Do you know how many times we stopped talking to our parents when we were kids?"

Harry shook his head. "Why, though? You've got great parents."

Ginny nodded. "I know, right? But that's how kids are. I swear to you that if all seven of use were speaking to them at the same time, it had to be Christmas." She grinned a little. "And that was just because no one wanted to risk their presents."

"You're joking."

Ginny just shook her head. "I think you're a great dad," she said honestly, smiling at him in the way that always made his heart speed up a little. "And the kids do, too, I swear. Even if they are a bit… angsty now and again."

A bit angsty was putting it mildly.

"I think I'm going to go check on them." He sat up, and Ginny stood up.

"When you're done," she said suggestively, "you should come back and check on _me."_

Harry understood her implication and leaned in to kiss her quickly. "Give me ten minutes," he promised.

Ginny smiled and said nothing as she fell back into the chair he'd recently abandoned.

James' room was at the far end of the upper-level. It was the largest of the kids' rooms and a bit off from Al's and Lily's. Harry knocked on the door and was not surprised when he received no answer. Twisting the knob, he slowly pushed the door open and peeked his head in.

James was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling and doing absolutely nothing. He did not so much as glance over at his visitor.

"Can we talk?" Harry asked cautiously.

James did not reply.

"I know you're mad at me," Harry said slowly, wondering what the hell he was supposed to say. "And I'm…. sorry for that," he finished lamely.

Again, he got no response.

Harry didn't know what else to do. He couldn't stand the fact that his son detested him so much that he wouldn't even speak to him. It made him feel like the worst person alive.

"Fine," he muttered, knowing he wasn't getting anywhere. He didn't want to give up, but he didn't know of any other options. James needed time, he guessed, to brood and do whatever else it was that fourteen year old boys did when they were mad at their parents.

He shut the door and went then to Al's room. This time, he got a quiet, "Come in," when he knocked.

Al was sitting at his desk with a pile of parchment around him.

"What're you doing?" Harry asked, glancing down at the work covering the desk.

"History of Magic," Al answered glumly. "I don't know what I'm doing…"

Harry noticed that most of the parchment littering the desk was crossed out and balled up; he was surrounded by what appeared to be fifty starts to an unwritten essay.

"What's the subject?"

"The Goblin Revolution." Al looked pale with stress and worry. "I'm such crap at school…"

Harry could relate. He knew, too, that Al was seriously struggling with school, something that was only made worse by the fact that he seemed to think he had a lot to live up to. Harry had tried on several occasions to explain to him that he had never been a star pupil by any means and that as long as he did his best, then everything would be fine. But Al was a natural worrier.

"D'you know anything about this?" he asked, looking up at Harry with tired green eyes.

"Haven't a clue," Harry answered regretfully. "But I bet," he said quickly, taking note of his son's fallen face, "that Aunt Hermione knows loads about it. And if you ask her, I bet she'd love to help you."

Al frowned. "She's busy."

"I am _positive _she'll help you."

"Rose usually helps me," he mumbled.

Harry felt horrible for him. Not only that, but he felt guilty for not being around to deal with this- to deal with the fact that his own family was suffering from Rose's disappearance as much as anyone else was- Al, especially who, Harry knew, was inwardly terrified and too nervous to outright admit it.

"Al, you know we're doing everything we can to find her, right?" he asked carefully, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Al nodded, ducking his head and kicking the leg of his chair absently.

"And she's going to be just fine," he assured him.

"You don't know that." Harry was surprised to even hear a response, much less that one… It was mumbled, of course, but it was there.

"Al, I promise you," he said sincerely, "that Rose is okay."

But his son just frowned and shook his head. "You shouldn't make promises if you can't keep them…"

Harry didn't know what to say. He could see something far worse than fear reflected in Al's eyes.

"Did they take her because of you?" Al looked up suddenly, speaking more clearly than he had in several moments.

"I don't know," Harry admitted, feeling guilt overtake him with the simple admission.

"They should have taken me instead."

"Look, don't say that, alright?" Harry attempted as sharp a tone as possible. "Nobody is going to take you anywhere."

"But it's not fair," Al said seriously. "Rose isn't even your kid."

"Albus, we will _find _Rose. I swear."

A heavy silence hung over them, and then Al, still frowning, asked a very quiet question. "Dad, what does it feel like to kill someone?"

Harry was horrified. He had no idea _why _his son would ask something like that, and he was mortified to think that those kind of thoughts would even pass through a twelve year old's mind. "Why would you ask that question?" he said evenly, catching Al's eye and holding it.

He could see fear and whatever else it was evident on his son's face, but to his surprise, Al spoke rather clearly. "Because," he said slowly, "if I knew who took Rose, I'd want to kill them…"

"Don't say things like that." It was an immediate reaction, and Harry couldn't believe he was having this conversation. "I know you're upset, but don't even _think _that kind of stuff…" He was in shock.

Al looked as though he couldn't figure out if he was in trouble or not. A million different emotions overtook his features, and Harry watched as tears pooled in his eyes. It was obvious that he was trying hard to fight them down, but a second later, he lost that battle and was crying openly.

Harry reached for him, not knowing what else to do, and he was a bit surprised when Al came to him willingly. A shuddered sob went through him as he wrapped his arms around his father's neck and buried his face into his shoulder. Al was still very small for his age; he'd written home at the start of term to let his parents know that he was, as he'd feared, indeed the smallest kid in school, save one little girl in Hufflepuff who was half an inch shorter. Harry could hardly believe he was already twelve years old, thinking he should still be a toddler who was afraid of the dark.

But Al wasn't afraid of the dark anymore; he was, it appeared, afraid of things much, much worse. And Harry didn't really know what to do. So he just hugged him and let him cry. He didn't say anything, for fear of embarrassing him; he tried not to act too shocked. He just let him cry.

He didn't know what else to do.

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Thanks to everyone who is reviewing faithfully, I'm trying to get the updates out as soon as possible!


	9. Chapter 9

LOST

Chapter 9

Unfortunately, everything still belongs to JK Rowling.

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When Hugo was very small, his sister used to teach him words and tell him to say certain phrases to their parents. They were usually not the nicest words or phrases, and it was obvious that Rose did this solely in an attempt to get him into trouble. However, this usually backfired on her. Sometimes, of course, the words would make his mum gasp and order him to never say that again, but it was normally Rose who ended up with a swatted bum or with her nose in the corner.

When he was a little older, she began telling him stories, lies rather, about all sorts of things. She told him once when he was four that a troll lived in the basement and that it would eat him if he told on her for sneaking sweets; after all, it was very much common knowledge that trolls _loved _to dine on tattlers.

When he was eight, she took him flying on her new broom without their parent's permission and pushed him off of it from roughly twelve feet in the air. It wasn't an accident. It wasn't even done during a heat of the moment argument. She had simply flown him up, laughed, and shoved him off. He had broken his arm in the fall, and she, coincidentally, had not been able to sit properly for three days.

When she left for Hogwarts, Hugo suffered mixed feelings. For weeks before September 1st, he'd gone around loudly telling anyone who would listen that he couldn't wait for her to be gone. He asked her several times if she couldn't write to the school and see if they'd allow her to show up early. His mother had gotten irritated with him and yelled at him regularly. After they finally dropped her off at the train station, he'd practically skipped back to the car and was in a fantastic mood the entire day.

About a week after she'd gone, though, he'd begun to feel a bit differently. Their house was too quiet, and Hugo got annoyed with the rather deafening silence that seemed to answer him any time he'd make noise. He also got annoyed when he realized that his mum graded him twice as hard on his lessons than she had when Rose had been home. Rose, of course, was something of a genius (not that anyone could forget, as she was _very _good at reminding people of it), and Hugo had always been able to slide by easily because people were so obsessed with her work. His mum, who was nearly always the one to look over their lessons, would spend hours trying to challenge Rose, and Hugo had always been able to just do a little bit here and there to appease her. Without the distraction of her star pupil, though, his mum concentrated wholly on Hugo's work… which she didn't seem too pleased with that often. He was so sick of rewriting tests and revising essays that he'd been almost _glad _when Rose returned with a wealth of knowledge to both impress and distract their mum.

That feeling had, of course, lasted all of about two days.

After that, he was sick of her again, sick of her teasing him and bossing him around. He was sick of hearing her prattle on about how _cool _Hogwarts was and what a real _shame _it was that he wouldn't find out for a whole other year… He was also sick of hearing her talk about her friends and how much fun they were and how she was so popular. He hated the way she seemed to think the whole world owed her something for simply existing, and he was sick of getting into trouble when she goaded him into fights.

Now, though, he was pretty sure he'd give up just about anything, including the brand new broom his dad had bought him as an attempted bribe, to have her back in the house annoying him. Anything would be better than the way things were now. He was so sick of everything, sick of his parents being gone all the time, sick of staying with his aunt, sick of his dad frequently smelling of firewhiskey, and sick of hearing his mum cry in the bathroom.

What was even worse than all that was the way they tiptoed around everything. They constantly tried to hide the fact that they were drunk or crying or _whatever, _tried to put on this totally normal display around him when he knew beyond a doubt that things were certainly far from normal. To make matters worse, when he'd tried to approach them and flat out ask him what was going on and where Rose was, they'd ignored him. Like he was invisible.

He may not have been as smart as his sister, but he was definitely far from stupid.

Lily said they were worried and that they were just trying to look out for him. She said that it was normal for parents to try to hide stuff from their kids when they thought it was in their best interest. They probably thought they were protecting him. Anyway, she'd said, he shouldn't worry because they were going to find Rose and she was going to be fine. And once they found her, everything would go back to normal.

But Hugo wasn't so sure she was right.

His life had never been more _abnormal, _and he wasn't sure he remembered what normal was anymore. Everything was wrong. He hated to admit it, but he was also extremely frightened. As much as he and Rose had their differences and fought with each other, she was also his sister. And even though he loved to claim otherwise, he did, in fact, love her. At least somewhere deep down inside of him… He just wanted to know that she was okay, even if she did bug him and tease him a little too much.

He could hear his parents in the kitchen, surprisingly both home at the same time for once. They were cooking dinner, trying, he knew, to appear as though nothing was wrong. It was ridiculous. They called for him, and he begrudgingly joined them at the table. His mum had cooked, he could tell, because the roast was slightly burnt and looked a little too black. There was a running joke in his family that anything too pink or too black must definitely have been prepared by Mum. It didn't seem so funny at the moment.

"So," his mum said with an air of false brightness, "did you have fun with Lily today?"

"No," he answered shortly.

This was not the answer his parents expected, he could tell. Both of them looked at each other with slight surprise, but his mother recovered quickly. "Why not, did you two have a row?"

"No," he repeated, not up to more than one word answers.

"Then what happened?"

"Nothing."

"Are you okay, love?"

He wanted to scream. If his mother asked him just one more time if he was okay, he was going to lose it. It was so annoying. She asked it twenty times a day, and he wished she'd just leave him alone. He wanted to tell her as much, but he didn't feel like listening to his father yell at him. He chose instead a very simple reply, "Sure."

He picked at the plate of burnt pork and then took to shoving some peas around his plate. He really hated peas.

"Luna said she might bring the twins over this weekend," she babbled on, trying her best to be cheery, he knew. "Maybe Dad can take the three of you to a Quidditch match." She looked over at his dad and raised her eyebrows in a manner that meant, _'Agree with me now or regret it later.'_

"Yeah," his dad piped with forced excitement. "We can take Lily, too, if you guys are over your row."

"We didn't have a row," Hugo spoke up with his first complete sentence all dinner. "I'm over there every second of every day, can't I get bored once in awhile?"

He watched as his parents exchanged silent looks. He could tell what those looks meant, and he didn't care if they thought he was being rude.

"Look, honey," his mum said gently, "you know we wish we could be home more, but we're just very busy. If you want, I'm sure you can go stay with Grandmum…"

"I don't want to stay with Grandmum!" he said sharply. "Or Nana or Aunt Ginny or _anybody! _I wish everybody would just leave me alone!"

He'd hurt his mother's feelings. He could tell by the look on her face. He tried to not care, but he couldn't help the guilty feeling that crept over him as he watched her look down at her plate.

"May I be excused?" he asked quietly.

His dad was looking at him rather pointedly, and Hugo had no doubt that he was going to get it later.

"You didn't eat anything." His dad's voice let him know in no uncertain terms that he was correct with his assumption.

"I'm not hungry," he mumbled, trying not to make eye contact.

"It's fine," his mother muttered. "You're excused."

Hugo didn't need to be told twice. He pushed his chair back and left the dining room quickly. He realized as he was halfway up the stairs that he hadn't put his plate away, but he didn't dare go back and correct his mistake.

He closed the door to his bedroom tightly and looked around his room. It was messy and could do with a cleaning. His mum usually took care of it, but she hadn't been up for much housework lately, though he did catch her making and remaking his sister's bed several times a week, which he thought was pretty stupid seeing as how Rose obviously wasn't sleeping in it.

He wondered where Rose _was _sleeping.

Hugo was surprised to find himself so angry. He wasn't even positive who or what he was angry at. He was just _mad. _His parents were so bloody stupid sometimes. He wanted to know where his sister was, but he was positive that even if his parents knew where she was, they wouldn't tell him. They wouldn't tell him _anything._

It wasn't fair.

And now he was going to be in trouble. He was going to be in trouble for just being honest. He knew his tone probably wasn't the nicest, but he hadn't been able to help himself. They shoved him off on other people all the time and expected him to have no problem with it. It was stupid, and he knew he was going to be in for it just for saying so.

Making a rash decision, Hugo angrily pulled open his desk drawer and started searching around for some paper. He would be in the most trouble he'd ever been in, he was positive… but he didn't care.

This was the only choice he had, and he had to take it.

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For as long as Ron had known Hermione, she'd employed two relaxation tasks- bubble baths and reading. Sometimes, if she was _extremely _stressed, she would do both at the same time. Ron, of course, did not particularly see the draw to either of those activities, but he and Hermione had never been too similar, at least when it came to choosing things they liked to do or found interesting.

She'd gone upstairs for a bath after dinner, leaving Ron to tidy up and put away the dishes. She'd said she was fine, just tired. He hadn't mentioned the fact that he could see the wetness in the corner of her eyes, there was no point. He knew she was hurt, both by the way Hugo had spoken to her and the things he had said. Not that any of it was _too _awful, but it had confirmed their fears that Hugo was angry with them and angry with the situation.

As the last plate dried itself and went soaring into the cupboard, Ron could hear the tub draining. He wasn't surprised to find her emerging from their adjoining bathroom with her hair tied up and a bathrobe tied tightly around her waist. She was carrying, unsurprisingly, a Muggle novel she'd started a few nights before.

"Did you have a nice bath?" he asked, kicking off his shoes. He used his foot to shove them into the closet, something he knew annoyed her but one of the few things she'd never been able to break him of.

"Yes," she answered, ignoring the way he was putting away his shoes. "It was lovely. Is the kitchen finished?"

"Polishing itself as we speak," he answered lightly.

She nodded, and he crossed the room to wrap his arms around her for no particular reason. She leaned into him and rested her forehead against his shoulder lazily. He could tell that she really was quite tired.

"You smell good," he mumbled, breathing in the fresh soapy scent. Her soap smelled a bit like grapefruit and sugar, and it always made him just a little hungry.

"You smell like sweat," she mumbled back, and he laughed. He could feel the beginnings of her smile as her face rested against his shoulder.

"Sorry," he said, unapologetically.

He bent his head and kissed the skin of her neck right below her chin. He felt her relax in his arms, and he remembered the one calming technique they had in common…

"D'you think Hugo hates us?" she asked quietly.

"I think he's confused," he said simply, moving his lips up her jaw and finally pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "I think he'll be fine."

Hermione nodded, her eyes slipping shut as he kissed her again, this time more slowly and a little more deliberately.

"Did you know Fleur caught Victoire starkers at Teddy's?" He looked at her and grinned as her eyes opened and went wide.

"Oh, my god, what'd she do?"

He shrugged. "Blessed them out in French, I guess. Vic better hope she doesn't tell Bill."

"_Teddy _better hope," she corrected emphatically. "But oh my god, how embarrassing!"

Ron frowned. "They shouldn't have been getting up to that sort of thing anyway, serves them right."

"Why shouldn't they?"

"Because they're just kids!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, something he secretly had a weakness for. "Teddy is twenty years old, he's hardly a kid."

"Well. Victoire's not."

"No," she replied slowly. "She's eighteen."

"Exactly."

"Eighteen, Ron, not eight."

He just shook his head, refusing to agree. "That's young. I didn't even _kiss _you until I was eighteen."

"You mean _I _kissed _you," _she corrected. Then, rolling her eyes again, she went on, "And it took about two weeks after that to do everything else. If I recall correctly."

"Longer than two weeks."

"Fine. Two and a _half."_

He couldn't help himself, he grinned at the memory. She was right, of course, he just loved arguing with her. The early weeks of their relationship had been hurried and urgent, as they'd both been a bit desperate for each other after wasting so much time apart. He'd been surprised by Hermione back then, surprised by how insistent she had been that they jump right into things. He'd figured she'd want to take things slowly, but she'd wanted just the opposite.

He could remember those weeks after the war as clearly as he could remember anything. He had been overwhelmed with emotions, Fred's death had affected him much more than he would have ever imagined. Hermione had been the one who had taken care of him and helped him heal after that. They were both a bit shocked to still be alive after it was all over, so it was unsurprising that they gravitated toward each other more than ever before.

That night, not three weeks after Voldemort's fall and Fred's death, he'd been in his room, alone. Harry hadn't been around much in those weeks, caught up completely with Ginny and trying to do his best to forget everything he'd been through. Ron hadn't been surprised when Hermione found him that night, slipping into his room and into his bed. It wasn't unusual for them to spend their nights whispering to each other, sharing secrets and fears. He'd been abnormally emotional that night and had ended up in tears. It wasn't the first time he'd cried in front of her, and he wasn't particularly embarrassed. She had wrapped her arms around him and let him cry, whispering quiet words in his ear that had meant more to him than anything else possibly could. And then, with an honest look of determination in her eyes, she'd opened herself up to him completely and she'd given him everything she possibly could.

"There's no point in waiting," she'd mumbled in a slow, throaty voice he would never forget. "It was always supposed to be like this."

By "this," he'd known she meant the two of them. She was right, of course, and he knew it as well as she did. Even if it _did _take them a bit too long to get round to it… But they'd had no other real choices back then, there'd always been something standing in the way- something else they needed to be focusing on… But when they finally had time to focus on themselves, they'd come together in the most magical way possible.

Two decades later, and he still felt the same way. She could still make him weak, still drive him crazy, and still understand him in ways no one else possibly could.

He kissed her slowly, deliberately, reaching up to remove the clip holding her hair in place. Brown curls tumbled down around her shoulder, as out of control and unruly as ever. He'd always loved her hair the most out of all her physical aspects. When he was very young, he'd been a bit fascinated and had often caught himself staring at it during class, wondering how it was possible for one girl who was otherwise so little to have _so _much hair. As he grew older, he was fascinated by it for other reasons- the way it smelled, the way it felt when it slipped between his fingers, and the way it was so easy to just smother his face into it and get lost in the curls.

Mostly, though, he just thought it was beautiful.

Rose had the same hair- different color, same curls. She'd been born with them and had been an adorable baby, all chubby with a mop of unruly curls. Now she was older, her hair was much longer and she was anything but chubby now. She was tall, skinny, and redheaded, but that was where the physical similarities between she and Ron ended. Otherwise, she was Hermione made over. She had Hermione's nose, Hermione's long fingers, and Hermione's wide chocolate eyes. She would have had her childhood teeth, too, but Hermione had fixed them magically two years earlier before her parents could get their hands on them.

Hugo, on the other hand, was short for his age and just the tiniest bit pudgy. His hair was, surprisingly, stick straight, and he had quite a few more freckles than his sister. While she had her mother's eyes and thick eyelashes, Hugo had Ron's- blue with a constant hint of sleepiness in them.

Hermione drew him back to the moment by running a hand over the back of his neck, her fingertips grazing the sensitive skin there and making him shudder slightly. God, she was gorgeous. And he couldn't even believe how in love with her he still was. It had been awhile since they'd made time for each other, since any kind of moment like this had presented itself. He imagined that she shared the slight guilt he felt at even _attempting _to be momentarily happy when Rose was missing and there was so much to worry about.

But he couldn't help it.

He was in love with her.

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Hermione woke up early the next morning feeling calmer than she had in over a month. The initial hatred of morning that usually filled her did not make its normal appearance.

She was alone when she woke up, and she lamented the loss of warmness that she'd enjoyed all night. She replayed the previous night's events in her head, feeling so good about the connection they'd reestablished. It had been a long time since they'd take any time for themselves. It had been more than a month since Rose's disappearance, and they had both been fully consumed with that, leaving very little time for themselves or for each other. Last night had provided them both with a feeling of connectivity and a much-needed release.

She could hear the shower running from their bathtub, and she glanced at the clock to see that it was just after eight. She wondered if he was going to work and noted that if he was planning on it, he was going to be late. She kind of wished he would just stay at home with her all day, but she knew that was selfish. She'd already made the decision that she was going to keep Hugo with her that day, since apparently he was on the verge of a meltdown over the fact that he'd had to stay with other people so often this summer. She felt guilty about it, but she had honestly thought it was the best option, as she'd been in no position to take care of him when she was so preoccupied with doing everything in her power to find Rose. She'd thought he would enjoy spending time with his cousins more than he would enjoy spending hours digging through old files and books, which was what she'd been getting up to.

It was awful to think that he was so hurt and obviously felt so dismissed, and she knew she he was probably just as affected as anyone by the loss of his sister. Even if he wouldn't come out and say as much, she knew he was worried. It wasn't fair to keep pushing him aside. He was their child, too, and as such, he deserved the same amount of attention that their other child did.

She thought about all of this as she got up and got dressed, pulling on comfortable clothes. She planned on spending the day playing outside with her son. Though she still wasn't too keen on flying, she would let him take her up on his new broom. She had watched him enough to know that he was a pretty fair flyer, already much better than she'd ever been. He wanted to be on the House team when he got to Hogwarts, and he already considered himself to be in training. Ron, of course, was thrilled to help him, especially considering the fact that Rose took after Hermione. She thankfully wasn't as awful at flying as her mother, but she'd never had any desire to play for the House team. She enjoyed watching Quidditch, but she'd never shown an interest in actually playing, only joining her cousins in scrimmage matches when they absolutely forced her. Of course, Ron hadn't been around much lately to go flying with him.

Speaking of Ron, he emerged from the bathroom shirtless with sopping wet hair. He smiled at her as he used a towel to rub some of the water from his hair. "I figured you'd still be asleep."

She shook her head and tried to decide on a pair of shoes. "Wide awake," she said, stating the obvious. "Are you going to work?"

"I guess I need to," he said, a bit begrudgingly. "I'm going to be late, though."

"I know."

"What're you doing today?"

She found a pair of trainers and pulled them onto her feet, dropping down to tie them. "I'm going to stay here with Hugo. Maybe let him fly or something."

"That'll be good." He banished the towel he was holding to the laundry and stifled a yawn. "I'll go see if he's awake."

Hermione nodded, standing back up and smiling at him. "I'll go get breakfast started."

"Don't burn the sausage," he teased. "When it gets brown, take it off the grill."

She rolled her eyes and smacked him across the arm playfully. "Go wake your son up."

She went to the kitchen and started gathering the ingredients for breakfast. Sausage, eggs, and toast. Simple, yet filling. She'd have to make a lot, as both of the men in her family were quite the eaters. Rose was, too, for that matter, though she stayed as thin as a rail no matter how much she ate. Hermione was about to start the eggs when she realized she didn't know how they wanted them cooked. Most of the time, they could be easily pleased with simple scrambled eggs, but sometimes they got picky and wanted them fried a certain way. Turning the stove back off, she headed upstairs to find them.

As she reached the top of the stairs, though, she nearly ran straight into Ron. He looked rather pale and she could tell immediately that something wasn't right. "What's-" She stopped short as a horrible thought came over her. "Oh, my god…"

Without another word, she shoved past her husband and ran down the hallway to her son's room. It was, as she'd feared, empty.

Her heart seemed to stop in her chest, and she ran past the empty bathroom to Rose's room, hoping beyond hope that he was in there. He wasn't. She could hear Ron call after her as she once again ran past him and down the stairs.

"Hugo!" she called desperately, praying he would answer. She continued calling for him as she ran from one room to the next searching for any trace of him. Ron beat her to the door and she followed him quickly into the backyard, screaming Hugo's name in an attempt to make him appear.

"Why is this happening?!" she demanded desperately as they came up totally empty-handed. Hugo was nowhere. He was gone. "This isn't fair!"

Ron gripped her by the shoulders and pulled her back into the house. "Hermione, you need to calm down," he said firmly, kicking the door closed behind them without loosening his grip on her. "You need to _breathe."_

She hadn't even realized she'd stopped until he mentioned it. Her breath was coming in quick rapid gasps, and she was horrified to realize she couldn't control it. She couldn't get her lungs to gather air, and she felt like she was suffocating.

"We have to find him!" she wheezed, trying desperately to pull away. Her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest, and she couldn't breathe at all.

"_Breathe," _he commanded again, looking at her intently and breathing slowly and intently as if giving her an example.

Tears were pouring from her eyes, and she hadn't even realized she was crying. The sobs made it even more difficult to breathe, and she was sure she was going to die. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get her lungs to work.

"Please don't do this to me…" Ron whispered, and she looked up to see his own eyes glistening with tears he was obviously trying to hide. "Just calm down."

A horrible pain seemed to shoot through her entire body. Her stomach twisted in agonizing cramps, and she grabbed at her lower abdomen in an attempt to make them stop. Gasping for breath, she squeezed her eyes shut against the pain.

"Something's wrong," she sputtered breathlessly.

She could hear Ron saying something, but she couldn't make out his words. The pain in her stomach was too fierce, and it seemed to have deafened her. He seemed very far away, and she opened her eyes to see where he'd gone. Everything was blurry, though, and she couldn't make anything out.

A second later, everything went black.

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So sorry for the long delay. To those of you who have messaged me, I'm sorry I didn't get back personally, but I've been out of the country with very little Internet access. I am back now (at least for a week), so I will try to get another update in before I leave again.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far!


	10. Chapter 10

LOST

Chapter 10

Everything in the story belongs to JK Rowling

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St. Mungo's was never a dull place.

The number of strange and somewhat humorous injuries that came through the door certainly left enough to watch and be amused by, but Ginny was a bit too irritated to enjoy people-watching. In fact, she was downright furious.

"Mum, Al won't let me see his books."

"Lily, just… stop," she answered dully. "Go sit down."

Lily narrowed her eyes and stomped across the room before flinging herself into a chair beside James. She crossed her arms over her chest began kicking her feet roughly. James rolled his eyes and crossed his own arms, slouching further in his chair. He was still in a bad mood and pissed off at the world, but Ginny was so far from concerned about him at the moment that she barely registered it.

What she did register, however, was a figure entering the room and standing beside her. She knew without looking that it was Harry, but she did not turn her head to confirm. At the moment, she didn't have any desire whatsoever to acknowledge his appearance, as she wasn't quite sure she could look at him without hexing him.

He apparently sensed her animosity because he used his "nervous" voice, the voice he always used when he had to tell her something she wouldn't want to hear or when he knew she was angry.

"Can I talk to you out here?" he asked carefully, obviously trying very hard not to draw attention to himself. It was a hard task to accomplish, of course, seeing as how they couldn't really go out into public without being recognized. However, that particular waiting area wasn't too crowded. Besides their children, there were only three other people- a couple and an elderly lady who was busy reading that morning's _Daily Prophet._

At first, Ginny did not move or acknowledge her husband's question. However, she could feel the eyes of the man and woman across the room staring at them, and she didn't want to give them something to call into the paper about. With as much unspoken anger as she could muster, she stood up and stalked past him and down the corridor. She heard him tell James to watch his brother and sister and could imagine the rolling eyes and look of disgust he got in return for his request.

A few moments later, she'd managed to find a corner of the corridor that was empty and waited impatiently for Harry to join her. When he arrived, she could tell he was scared to talk to her.

With good reason.

"They gave her a sleeping potion," he said, breezing past the small-talk. "She kept trying to leave, so they had to knock her out."

Ginny just looked at him.

Harry glanced away and then swallowed. "They said the baby should be okay as long as she starts resting more…"

Ginny crossed her arms and looked away from him.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he said, getting straight to the point.

"You _lied _to me," she accused, snapping her head back glare at him.

"I didn't lie!" he defended immediately. "They just asked me not to tell anyone."

"I'm your _wife, _you're supposed to tell me everything."

"I wanted to tell you, but-"

"But you didn't!" she interrupted. "You chose Ron and Hermione over me just like you always do! Just like you've done forever!"

He didn't immediately reply. Instead, he just looked at her. She felt her face flush, and she looked down at the floor, surprised by her own outburst.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked carefully.

Ginny felt tears tugging behind her eyes, and she forced them back. She couldn't believe she'd just said that out loud. It was something she rarely even allowed herself to think, much less verbalize.

"I've always been on the outside," she said quietly.

"Outside of what?"

"Of you and Ron and Hermione!" she said exasperated, though she didn't raise her voice. "It's always been you three and me. Even when you pretend it's us four, it never is."

Harry pushed a hand through his hair, and she watched it stand up messily. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you she was pregnant," he said slowly. "But I don't know what you're talking about."

She wanted to scream. Instead, she just shook her head. "Of course you don't."

"Ginny-"

"No," she said sharply. "I'm fine." She started to walk back toward the waiting area, but he stopped her.

"Ron and I need to go back to the house and see if there's any sign of Hugo. Could you stay here just in case Hermione wakes up?"

She had the strongest urge to slap him. But she didn't. Instead, she just rolled her eyes. "Sure," she said bitterly. "And I'll watch the kids, too."

He just looked at her, and she knew he was trying to read her, trying to figure out the underlying meaning of her words. He didn't make a guess, though. "And we need to figure out what to do about Lily," he said quietly.

"What about her?"

"We need to tell her about Hugo. And you know," he shrugged nervously, "find out if she knows anything."

Ginny narrowed her eyes again. "I'll let you handle that," she said coolly, "since it _is _your expertise and all… I'll bake her cookies or something to cheer her up. That's something easy enough for your wife."

She walked away from him then, and he didn't try to stop her. She was still so angry, but more than that, she was hurt. She was hurt that he didn't even understand what she said. She knew his eyesight was bad, but she hadn't known he was so blind that he couldn't see what was right in front of his face.

From the time she was ten years old, she'd always heard "Harry, Ron, and Hermione," like it was one word or something. At school, she'd very rarely heard them referred to separately, and she saw them separately even _more _rarely. They were a team, a three-for-one sort of deal. That's just the way things were.

In her early years of school, she'd been infatuated with Harry, had envied her brother, and hadn't particularly cared for Hermione all that much. Harry was a hero who she thought was awfully cute, and she'd been more than a little star-struck. She had embarrassed herself quite a few times back then in situations that were laughable now. She'd been in shock that Ron even knew him, much less that they were best friends. She'd been so jealous of him back then. Of course, Ron had another best friend, too- a girl at that. Ginny was used to being the only girl Ron paid any attention to, so it was difficult for her to process the fact that maybe he had other girls in his life. Not only that, of course, but Ginny had been _positive _that Hermione was in love with Harry and was somehow sworn competition. A couple of years changed her perception, of course, and by the time she was thirteen or fourteen, Hermione had actually become her most trusted confidante. And she figured out quickly enough that she definitely was _not _competition for Harry's affection…

But even when things changed in her Fifth Year, when Ginny actually got what she'd wanted since she was just a little girl, when Harry actually chose _her, _it was still Harry, Ron, and Hermione… and Ginny. She was still on the outside. She was like a fourth side to a triangle that didn't quite fit. They went off and saved the world together… and she went to school. It didn't matter that she'd promised Harry everything in the world she had to offer or even that he swore to her that he had to leave her behind to protect her, it still stung. It was still the worst year of her life.

And now, she felt sixteen years old all over again.

Ever since Rose had disappeared, Ginny had once again been left behind, had even been shoved into a childcare position. At first she hadn't minded, she'd simply done what seemed like the best thing for everyone. The more she sat with it and thought about it, though, the more she resented being stuck there. Rose was her niece, too, and she was fed up with being shoved aside once again.

And that morning had really sealed the deal…

She'd finished preparing breakfast and had been on her way upstairs to wake the kids when Ron had called through the fire. Her own _brother _called and immediately said he needed to talk to Harry. Not her, who was his own flesh and blood, but her _husband. _

"_Hugo's gone, we don't know where he is. And Hermione's sick, I've got to take her to the hospital."_

He'd spoken very quickly, before Harry had even had a chance to say anything. She'd stood back and listened, horrified at the news that Hugo had gone missing, too. She barely registered the last part of his statement until Harry furrowed his brow and asked a question in a low, nervous voice.

"_Is it the baby?"_

Baby? _Baby? _When she'd expressed her confusion, they'd both ignored her, and Ron had simply shook his head and said he didn't know and asked Harry to meet him at St. Mungo's. He hadn't asked _her, _his sister, to meet him, and Harry, her _husband, _had simply brushed past her as he hurried upstairs to get ready, leaving her alone and confused.

Of course, when she'd cornered him in their bedroom and demanded answers, he had confessed about the pregnancy and told her that they asked him not to tell anyone. Apparently it was a secret just for the three of them. She knew that she wasn't being totally fair and that Ron and Hermione weren't telling anyone right away because they didn't want to deal with that on top of Rose being gone, but regardless, she was his sister. And if they were going to tell her husband, they shouldn't have asked that he keep it secret from her. Even more, he shouldn't have _kept _it secret from her.

But what did she expect? They were Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Ginny was, and apparently always would be, an afterthought.

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Ron felt like he was in a dream- no, more like a nightmare.

He felt like he was trapped in a nightmare from which he couldn't wake. He didn't even see how any of this could be real- how both of his kids could be missing, how his wife could be in the hospital, how they could be in danger of losing a child that hadn't even been _born _yet.

He felt nauseous and was positive that he was going to get sick soon. Vomit seemed to be churning in his stomach, and his head was hurting worse than he could ever imagine. It was the worst feeling he'd ever had in his life.

Leaving Hermione at St. Mungo's had been extremely difficult, and he'd almost refused when Harry said they needed to go back to the house. But he knew, of course, that they had to see if they could find any clues about Hugo, knew Hermione would never forgive him if he didn't go. After all, she'd been trying to leave since the moment they'd arrived. In an odd way, they were sort of lucky that she kept slipping in and out of consciousness, as it curbed her efforts repeatedly. When she was finally actually awake, they'd forced a potion on her to knock her back out. If she got up and left now, the Healer'd said, she would most definitely miscarry and possibly do even fatal damage to herself.

There was no way he was letting that happen.

He'd given the hospital staff permission to give her whatever was needed in order to ensure that she stayed asleep and stayed in the hospital. She would be more than a bit angry with him, he was sure, but it didn't matter. He would take her being angry with him over her being dead any day.

It was awful really that neither of them had been excited for the new baby at all up until that point. In fact, he wasn't even sure that either of them _wanted _it or were happy about it. But that morning, faced with the prospect of losing it, they'd both seemed to realize that it was their child. He'd been scared to death and had prayed to every deity he could recall to save that baby. Hermione, during her brief moments of consciousness, had sobbed uncontrollably and begged him to find out what was going on. Through a stream of unending tears, she'd pleaded with him and said that she couldn't handle it if she lost _three _children.

How was it possible that her statement could even be true? How could it even be _possible _that they could be in danger of losing three children in little more than a month?

His head was spinning.

"We should probably look in his room first." Harry's voice jarred him out of his thoughts and he realized where they were and what they were there to do. They needed to find out if any clues had been left that might help them find Hugo.

Because Hugo was gone, just like Rose was gone…

Without verbally replying, Ron followed Harry up the stairs to Hugo's room. The door was still wide open from where they'd first found it empty. He looked around, noticing that it looked the same as it had that morning. The most obvious thing, to Ron at least, was that Hugo had never slept in his bed the night before. Which meant he'd been gone early last night, most likely while his parents were still awake.

While his parents were ignoring him and caught up completely in each other, oblivious to everything else around them…

The thought hit him like a ton of bricks, and he grabbed the trash bin that sat under Hugo's desk out of instinct. Within a second, he was emptying the contents of his stomach into it.

He'd let his son go missing from his own house while he was _awake. _He hadn't even heard anything, much less done anything to stop it. No, he'd been too preoccupied with trying to get Hermione back into bed for the first time in a month…

"You okay, mate?" Harry once again reminded him that he was not alone. When he was sure he couldn't throw up anymore, he carefully set the bin aside and wiped at his mouth.

"Fine," he muttered, not daring to make eye contact. He was positive that if he did, Harry would look at him and know that he put his need for sex over the safety of his own child. Harry would hate him as much as he hated himself at the moment.

"You didn't make the bed this morning, did you?"

Ron shook his head, still trying to avoid eye contact. "No, he didn't sleep here."

Harry was combing the room, looking for something- anything. Ron seemed to be frozen to his spot. He was so _useless. _Not only could he not protect his children, he couldn't even do anything to help find them after he lost them.

He looked around Hugo's room from his spot, wondering how it was even possible that both of his children were gone. He'd never been sicker in his entire life. Hugo was just a little boy, and Rose wasn't much older. It was beyond his imagination that anyone could ever want to harm them, so he couldn't fathom why they would take them from their home and from the people who loved them. He wanted them back so badly.

"Um," Harry cleared his throat, and Ron jerked out of his reverie and looked over to where he was kneeling beside the bed. He had what appeared to be a piece of paper in his hand, and he was reading something intently.

"What's that?" Ron asked immediately, taking the three steps across the room to stand over him.

Harry looked at him for a second and then stood up and handed him the paper. Ron recognized it immediately as the stationery set Hermione's parents had given both the kids for Christmas.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I know I'm going to be in a lot of trouble, but I don't think I have a choice. First of all, I want you to know that I left by myself, no one took me like they did Rose- and I know someone took her even though you won't admit it. Second of all, that's why I left- because you won't tell me anything. I miss Rose, too, and I want to know what happened to her. Nobody will tell me anything, so I don't think I have any other choice than to go look for her myself._

_I don't want you to worry, I know you have to worry about Rose. I will be fine. I took my broom, so I won't get tired walking. If I find Rose, I promise to tell you first thing. Please don't worry, just keep looking for my sister instead. _

_I already know I'm in trouble, so when I'll be expecting it when I get back. That's okay, I think it's worth it._

_Love,_

_Hugo_

_PS- I'm sorry about getting smart at dinner. I hope I didn't hurt your feelings, Mum, I was just upset. _

Ron read the letter twice before the words fully sunk in. He couldn't even begin to process them. Hugo ran away? He _ran away?_

"This is stupid!" he cried, suddenly bursting with emotion he'd been trying to bottle. "What the fuck did we do that was so bad that they _both _have to go missing?!"

Harry was looking at him warily, clearly gauging the reaction and knowing he'd finally reached the end of his rope.

"I don't understand! It was bad enough when Rose got taken, now Hugo left by _choice?!" _He picked up the closest thing he could find, a book Hugo had resting on his nightstand. Without thinking, he hurled it across the room as hard as he could and watched as it smashed into the small mirror hanging on the opposite wall, shattering it into a million pieces. "This isn't fucking _fair!"_

Harry said something he didn't hear. He didn't care, either. He wanted to break something else, he was so _angry. _It felt like every bad emotion in the world was bubbling inside of him, and he realized that he was literally about to lose it. He'd been trying for too long to pretend like everything would be okay, but now he was finally forced to admit to himself that it might not be.

He had no idea where his little girl was or who had her or even _why _they had her. If she was okay, he could only imagine what she must be feeling, how afraid she must be and how _alone _she must feel. He wanted her home, he wanted to tuck her into bed and hug her goodnight. He just wanted to _talk _to her.

And now Hugo, too…

Hugo, who left by _choice. _How could he be such an awful father that he would drive his own child away? Make him want to run away? How could he have fucked things up so badly? He'd tried his best, tried not to ignore Hugo and tried to be a good father… But he was rubbish at it just like he was rubbish at everything else in life. He should have known, should have guessed or seen the signs or something. But he hadn't. He'd lost him just like he'd lost Rose.

"I'm going to put a report out on him. He probably hasn't gotten too far."

Ron looked at Harry like he was insane, which was exactly the thought running through his head.

"Are you mad?!" he asked incredulously. "He's been gone hours! He could be anywhere!"

"It won't hur-"

"It won't hurt to try?" Ron spat venomously. "I'm sick of this shit! Those are my fucking _kids!"_

"I know that," Harry said, obviously trying to retain some sense of calm and evenness, "but you know we can't be rash…"

"I don't give a damn about not being rash," he shot back hatefully. "Those are my kids, and I'm going to fucking kill anyone who touches them."

"Ron-"

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down," he said harshly, effectively cutting him off before he had a chance to even finish his sentence. "You have no idea what this feels like."

"I know," Harry said quietly, "But I love those kids, too, and I don't want to see us mess something up by being irrational…"

Ron had a strong urge to throw something at Harry's head, but a popping noise downstairs stopped both of them short. Without a word to each other, they both raced down the stairs and into the sitting room where Ginny's head was floating in the fire.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked, panicked and immediately thinking the worst.

"Hermione woke up," Ginny said stiffly, and Ron noticed she wasn't even glancing at Harry. "And she's threatening to hex anyone who comes near her with any type of potion or a wand. She said she's leaving."

"She can't leave!" Ron said, staring at his sister in horror.

"Then you better get back here," Ginny replied sullenly. "Because I think the entire staff is scared of her."

Ron didn't need to be told twice. Without another word to Ginny or Harry, he Disapparated, and a few moments later found himself in the main lobby of St. Mungo's. He bypassed the welcome witch and went straight up to Hermione's floor. He saw Ginny straight away, as she was standing toward the end of the corridor right outside of Hermione's room.

"What's going on?" he asked, only slightly out of breath as he rushed up to her.

"What do you think?" she shot back, and he could tell she was pissed off about something. "She woke up and both of her children are missing, do you think she wants to lie in that bed?"

"She doesn't have a choice."

"Then tell her that," Ginny said breezily. "Be my guest."

She moved aside, and he hesitated only a second, wondering what had her so angry. He assumed she was upset no one had told her about the baby, but he wasn't about to waste his time coddling his grown sister when he had much more pressing matters at hand.

Hermione glared at him the second he opened the door, but her expression softened immediately a moment later.

"Oh, thank god!" she said, her voice laced with excitement. "They're trying to make me stay here!"

It was obvious from her second change of expression that she could tell by his face that he wasn't going to give her the support she wanted.

"You've got to be _kidding _me!" she said in disbelief.

He didn't answer her. Instead, he just walked silently across the room and wrapped his arms around her as he sat down with her, holding her close and breathing in everything about her. He wasn't even sure where it had come from, but he'd been overcome with the need to wrap his arms around her and hold her.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly, her voice wavering with unspoken fright.

Ron didn't answer right away, he just held her a little bit longer before whispering an answer into her hair. "He ran away…"

"_What?" _Hermione pulled back a bit and stared at him in shock. Her eyes were wide, and her face was pale.

Ron didn't know what to say, so he just nodded, swallowing in an attempt to suppress the tears he could feel threatening him.

"Oh, my god…" She shook her head, still in dazed confusion. "Ron, we have to _go-"_

"_No," _he said sharply, finding his voice. He softened his tone immediately. "Hermione, you can't…"

She narrowed her eyes, and he steeled himself for the inevitable argument. He decided to cut her off before she could start.

"Please, love," he said, quietly begging her to listen. "You have to stay here…"

"But those are my _babies!" _she cried, her own eyes welling up.

"So is this one," he said softly, placing a careful hand on her stomach. "Hermione, _please."_

She blinked rapidly, the tears obviously threatening her even more prevalently.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, looking up at her and blinking back his own tears.

She swallowed and nodded. "More than anything," she whispered.

"Then trust me on this," he said gently. "I swear to you, I _swear, _Hermione… I'm going to find them. No matter what. But you," he glanced toward her stomach once more, "you have to stay here…"

Hermione didn't answer immediately. She just stared at him before finally closing her eyes briefly and then nodding.

He felt the tears finally spill over and felt them slide down his cheeks. Without another word, he just gathered her in his arms and hugged her again. She was crying against his shoulder, and he ran a hand over her hair as they cried together.

This really was his worst nightmare.

He just wanted to wake up.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Okay, so not too long of a delay in updates! I'm going back out of the country again next week, so it will be after that before I'm able to update again. I hope you enjoyed it and thanks for the reviews!


	11. Chapter 11

Rose had lost count of the days a long time ago

LOST

Chapter 11

Despite the delay in this chapter, I still haven't gained ownership of anything…

--

Rose had lost count of the days a long time ago.

A week ago, she'd decided to give up all together.

Nobody was coming. Nobody cared. Nobody was looking for her.

She was lost for good.

Things weren't so bad here anyway, not when she really thought about it. There was good food and something that could almost be considered a bed at least. The people were nice enough to her, especially the woman. Rose called her CC at her request. She wasn't sure what the letters stood for or even if it was a real name, but she went along with it. CC was actually more than nice- she was downright lovely most the time. She was extremely attentive to Rose and was always interested in what she had to say. She never brushed her aside or only half-listened like her own mother did while she was bustled away at new proposals and other sorts of bollocks. Best of all, CC was always there whenever Rose called for her; she was never off at work, especially not for most of the day's hours, and she didn't spend her evenings at different charity events trying to raise funds and awareness for random creatures and causes that had nothing to do with her family. She was almost always around, and Rose realized how much she enjoyed having someone constantly there whenever she wanted to talk.

Monroe, the man CC lived with, was nice enough most of the time. He wasn't around as much as CC was, but that was okay. He didn't say much, but when he did, he was usually friendly enough, never mean or threatening. Rose didn't believe that CC and Monroe wanted to hurt her, though she didn't know why they'd taken her in the first place, either. She'd asked CC once, and she'd replied that it was to make people take notice. When Rose asked what people, CC told her that it was to make her parents take notice and realize what they were missing by being so involved in their jobs and in the needs of others. Rose knew what she meant. She'd always tried not to think about it like that, but the truth was that her parents _were _more concerned with other people than they were with her. She wasn't, after all, a Dark Wizard that needed tracking or an imprisoned magical creature with no rights. What could they possibly find of interest in her?

CC helped her put together all the pieces. This was the best situation for everyone involved. Her parents now had more time to spend on their own causes, something they occasionally had to put on hold for her and Hugo. Hugo was less trouble than she was anyway; she was, after all, the one who was constantly in trouble and constantly rowing with her parents. They both liked him more because he didn't mouth off as much as she did, and he was much more likely to simply do as they said instead of arguing the reasons behind things.

Hugo was undoubtedly happy that she was gone. After all, she was a horrible sister, constantly teasing him and bullying him. He'd told her every day since she'd been home on summer hols that he couldn't wait for her to go back to school. So surely he was pleased that it seemed as if he'd never have to worry about her again.

She wasn't sure of the exact day, but she was fairly positive that it had to be close to September, which meant that she was supposed to be returning to school soon. She wondered if anyone would miss her. Perhaps her friends might, though she wasn't positive… but she doubted her cousins would be too torn up. Fred and James would probably be downright giddy… Dominique, Molly, and Lucy probably wouldn't even notice; they rarely acknowledged her existence last year at Hogwarts after all. Al would miss her, though, she knew that much at least.

She missed Al more than she missed anyone else. He was the one person she kept going back to in her mind as someone who might actually care that she was gone. He was and always had been her best friend- he was the one person in the entire world that knew every single thing about her. He was the only person she trusted completely with all of her secrets, and he was the most important person in the world to her. She missed him terribly.

"Hello, love." She looked up from her place on her cot to see CC entering the room with a tray. "Care for a cuppa?"

Rose nodded and sat up. "Yes, please." CC smiled at her and started setting up the tea tray on the small table across the room. She was very beautiful, Rose was beginning to realize more and more. She had long, silky black hair and wide dark eyes. She was tall and thin, and she dressed very modernly and posh. Rose had asked if she was wealthy, but CC simply shook her head and said that wealth wasn't of any real importance and didn't matter.

"Did you have a nice rest?" CC poured two cups of tea and offered one to Rose as she crossed the room and sat down at her stool.

"It was alright," Rose answered with a shrug, sipping the hot liquid and feeling it warm her from the inside out. She picked up a biscuit from the plate in front of her and nibbled on it. "CC, do you know what day it is?"

"Tuesday, I believe. Why d'you ask?"

"No, I mean, the date," Rose corrected herself.

"Ohhh…" CC laughed. "August 15th."

"I'm supposed to go to school first of September."

"Ah, yes. 11 o'clock sharp on September 1st."

"That's right," Rose said, nodding. "Did you go to Hogwarts as well?"

CC nodded and sipped her own tea. "Years ago, of course. But yes."

"What House were you in?"

"Houses don't matter," CC answered calmly. "They're biased and create false rivalries amongst the students. Besides, they're rather a load of bollocks anyway, aren't they?"

"What do you mean?"

CC set her cup down and thought for a second. "Well, students get Sorted into those Houses based on what? Family legacy and eleven year old personalities? It's not accurate."

"I don't understand. You think people don't belong in the Houses they're sorted for?"

"Well, no, not in a lot of cases anyway. I mean, look at yourself. Gryffindor."

Rose waited for her to continue. "Yeah?"

"Well, exactly that." CC shrugged. "You're only in Gryffindor because of your parents."

"Sorry?"

"Look, love," CC reached out and placed a hand over hers. "You're the smartest person in your whole entire year, so why aren't you in Ravenclaw?" Rose did not have an answer for this, and in fact, she had asked herself that very question several times in secret. "You're not because you're the daughter of two very well-known Gryffindors. What would the world say if you weren't Sorted in with the rest of your family?"

"I've a cousin who isn't in Gryffindor," Rose said, trying to disprove the point. "Molly. She's in Ravenclaw."

"She's not in the same situation as you," CC said simply. "If you or your brother or any of those Potter kids ended up elsewhere, the entire world would be spun on its head."

"The Sorting Hat almost put my Uncle Harry in Slytherin," Rose said defiantly. "I know because he told me."

CC laughed and shook her head before sipping her tea once more. "Now, that would have been a laugh. Potter in Slytherin…"

"Why would it have been a laugh? Maybe he could have helped to make the Slytherins less rotten."

Rose thought she saw CC's eyes narrow slightly at her words, but if she was angry, she didn't let on. "Potter would have been eaten alive in Slytherin. Nobody would have blindly followed him and worshipped him like that Gryffindor lot."

Rose realized that CC was making a jab at her parents. She started to defend them, but before she could even think of a response, CC was cutting her off.

"Speaking of…" she said slowly, reaching into her bag and pulling out what appeared to be a newspaper, "I got the post earlier and found something I thought you should see…"

She handed Rose the paper. Printed right on the front page, a headline jumped out immediately. _"Confirmed: Weasley Pregnancy Made Public."_

Rose felt a bit sick to her stomach as she read the story accompanying the headline.

_Senior analyst for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Hermione Weasley, is pregnant with her third child. This revelation comes from a confirmed source who works at St. Mungo's Hospital where Weasley was treated earlier this week for minor complications._

"_Mrs. Weasley was brought into the hospital early Tuesday morning in a heated state of distress. She was treated and released the next morning."_

_Readers will recall that Weasley and her husband, Mr. Ronald Weasley, are the close personal friends and in-laws of Mr. Harry Potter. Mr. Weasley works under Mr. Potter in the Auror Department and has been involved in many recovery efforts over the past several years._

_Recently, the Weasleys came to the public light again as they searched for their missing daughter, twelve year old Rose, who disappeared on July 2__nd__ from their home in Hampstead. Rose is still missing, and all public search efforts seem to be all but forgotten. There is no word on where the child might be or if anyone is still actively looking for her._

_With the recent confirmation of a new pregnancy, readers will certainly question the motives of the parents. There are rumors that this pregnancy is meant simply to fill the void left by the loss of their daughter. Readers may draw their own conclusion there._

_Calls to the Weasley home were not returned, and no member of their family or immediate circle was available for comment at the time of publication._

Rose read through the article twice. She wasn't sure she completely comprehended it. In fact, she was positive that she must be misreading it. Her mum was _pregnant? _There was absolutely no way.

"Is this real?" she asked, finally looking up from it.

"Afraid so, love," CC said sympathetically. "I didn't know whether to tell you or not, but I figured it might help you put your mind to rest if you knew your parents weren't completely mental over you. They seem to be doing just fine, in fact." She gave a sort of optimistic smile. "So, now you needn't worry about it!"

Rose felt ill to her stomach. This was proof that they didn't care. The article might as well have come right out and said they'd given up on finding her and had simply decided to replace her with a new baby. She thought randomly of Hugo and wondered if he was excited for their new sibling- a sibling she was beginning to believe she would never meet.

"You look a little pale, dear," CC said quietly. "Why don't you have a lie down?"

Rose nodded, trying desperately not to cry. They weren't worth her tears, they didn't even _care _about her.

She followed CC over to the cot and waited as the older woman turned down the blankets and let her crawl in between them. She ran a hand soothingly over her hair as Rose lay down, and Rose basked in the gentleness of the movement. It was calming and affectionate; Rose wondered if CC loved her.

Surely someone had to…

--

Everything was getting to be a bit too much.

Harry felt overwhelmed by everything that was happening around him, and he wasn't sure how much longer he was going to be able to hold up before he ended up having a nervous breakdown or something.

Hermione, he was positive, was already well on her way to a breakdown, and he wondered what would happen when she finally lost it. Thankfully, she was on bed rest for the time being, kept there by strict Healer's orders and the fear that too much stressful activity would harm the baby. Of course, it wasn't as if she was any less stressed than she would be any other way. Both of her kids were missing after all, and listening to a Healer tell her to avoid stress was much, much simpler than actually _being_ without stress.

Ron, too, was about over the edge. He snapped at anyone who dared to speak to him- save Hermione, to whom he was exceedingly gentle. He spent every second mulling things over and randomly blurting out how stupid he was and how everything was his fault. Harry wanted to tell him to stop being so self-deprecating and to quit blaming himself, but he knew firsthand that such sentiment was much easier said than done.

Life at his own home wasn't too easy, either. Ginny was mad at him, furious that he hadn't told her about Hermione's pregnancy. She was being awfully sarcastic and short with him, and he was about sick of that as well. He couldn't believe that she really thought those things she'd said about him putting Ron and Hermione ahead of her in his life. It just wasn't true, at least not the way she saw it anyway. Ron and Hermione were his best friends in the entire world, and he owed them a lot more than anyone else could ever understand. Ginny knew this, but he realized she must not have known the full extent of it or, at the very least, didn't agree with all of it. How could he expect her to understand, though? Nobody but the three of them knew all the things they'd been through together. No one knew that he owed them his entire life and more, not even his own wife.

But Ginny didn't see it that way.

James still hadn't spoken to him, save a few one word answers he muttered in response to direct questions. Al was miserable and spent his days moping around the house. Neither of them seemed too excited about the impending return to Hogwarts, though Harry expected James at least would be much happier there. Al, though, would continue to be miserable, especially if he was insistently pestered by his schoolmates for information about Rose.

And then there was Lily… His precious, sweet, beautiful Lily. She was close to going mental, devastated over the news that Hugo was gone, too. She didn't know anything that would help them, only that Hugo had been upset that his parents weren't telling him the truth about his sister's whereabouts. When Harry had been forced to tell her that Hugo was missing, too, Lily simply climbed into his lap like a small child and cried quietly. It was his job, he knew, to protect her and to make things safe and okay for her, but he didn't know how to take care of her now, she was just so upset and scared.

And it was all his fault.

Harry couldn't get past the guilt that was overtaking him each and every time Rose and Hugo passed his mind, which was 95 of the time these days… He knew that whoever had taken Rose had done so solely because she was his niece. Whoever had her, he was sure, was simply trying to get to him. He still had plenty of enemies in the world, he was well-aware of this fact, but he hadn't dreamed that they would start going after the children.

Ron and Hermione had both given up so much for him already, and now they'd lost their children.

He hated himself.

They were dealing with much more than the loss of their kids, though, as if that weren't difficult enough. They were also dealing with the very public news of their new pregnancy. Someone inside of St. Mungo's had leaked the story to the papers, and they were publishing all kinds of hideous and hateful stories, all meant to stir up drama and, in turn, making Ron and Hermione's lives even more like hell. Their family, of course, now knew about the pregnancy, and they also seemed to be fighting bitterness that no one had told them earlier, though no one was expressing the sentiment in quite the same way Ginny was… Molly was hurt that they hadn't told her, though she brushed it off and said she understood. Some of the others also expressed the same sort of reaction, but for the most part, everyone seemed to be keeping the majority of their feelings to themselves.

With Hugo missing, too, no one wanted to be the one adding more stress to an already overwhelming situation.

They'd made the decision to keep Hugo's disappearance private. Reporting it publicly, they felt, would only add onto the media circus currently surrounding them, and that was the last thing they needed. The public had been no help in locating Rose, and it was highly doubtful that they'd be anymore useful at finding her younger brother. The authorities, of course, knew and were on the lookout, but there was no need to spread the news across the papers. It wouldn't help anything.

Once the media had gotten wind of the pregnancy, they'd taken the story and run. Harry grimaced thinking about some of the headlines he'd seen, the worst, of course, accusing Ron and Hermione of having another child to replace Rose. It was clear that the reporters who were writing these stories didn't bother to validate anything or research any of their information, or they would have done the math and realized that the pregnancy had actually happened before Rose had disappeared, though of course, they hadn't known at that time. It didn't matter anyway, though, as they'd continue making up headlines regardless of timelines and authenticity. Anything to sell papers after all… It was only a matter of time, he knew, before somebody realized Hugo was missing, too, and he could only imagine the headlines that would follow that revelation. He could only hope that all of this was over before it got to that point.

He glanced at the clock sitting on the edge of his desk and saw that it was well after eight in the evening. The rest of the department had long-since gone home, leaving him alone in the office. He was poring over old reports, trying to find anything at all that might give him a clue as to who had taken his niece. It was the millionth time he'd read the same reports, but he kept going with the hope that he'd spot something new.

He'd been at work since seven that morning and had certainly already missed dinner. There was no hope that Ginny might have saved him some for when he got home. She had undoubtedly thrown away all leftovers with the rest of the rubbish immediately following the meal. He knew that if he were to go home right now he'd only be met with a scowl and a cold shoulder from his wife. Lily would probably be asleep already, and his sons certainly wouldn't be eager to chat with him. He thought briefly of going to Ron and Hermione's, but he didn't want to bother them, especially with Hermione still being ill and Ron being so angry and abrasive. Knowing that he was absolutely past the point of getting anything productive accomplished, he finally decided to drop in on George and Angelina. They, as far as he knew anyway, at least had no grudge against him.

He arrived on the front stairs of their house and knocked lightly on the door, aware that it was semi-late and that there was a small child in the house. Ironically, though, it was said small child herself who answered the door. Roxanne smiled up at him, showing off her newly absent front tooth.

"Hey, Roxie."

"I knew it was you!" she said excitedly.

"Oh, yeah? Are you a Seer now, or what?"

"No, I looked out the window!" She giggled loudly, and he couldn't help but laugh himself.

"What happened to your mouth?" he asked teasingly as he bent down to pick her up and stepped into the house, pushing the door shut with his foot.

"My brother punched me," she said seriously. "And knocked my tooth out."

Harry looked at her, wondering for half a second if she was telling the truth. It wouldn't surprise him all too much if she were… knowing Fred and all. He raised his eyebrows, but she just giggled again.

"I'm just joking! It came out all on its own!"

"That sounds better," he said seriously, carrying her into the kitchen where he could see a light.

Angelina was cleaning up what appeared to be a cake batter gone badly wrong. She was scrubbing away at a stain on her counter as the dishes were stacking themselves into the sink. She looked up at the pair as they entered.

"Hey," she said, clearly surprised by his visit. "I didn't hear you."

"That's okay, I did," Roxanne said proudly. He set her down on a clean section of the counter. When Angelina looked at her carefully, she rolled her eyes. "I checked to see who it was before I opened the door." It wasn't surprising that she was concerned, as everyone in the family was being a bit more careful where the children were concerned these days.

"Need any help?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the kitchen mess.

Angelina shook her head. "I'm okay, thanks." Giving up on the chocolate stain, she pitched the dirty sponge into the rubbish bin located on the other side of the room.

"Nice shot."

She grinned and winked in Roxie's direction. "Yeah, I used to be a Quidditch player."

"I remember," Harry said, fake dread in his voice. He ducked and missed the smack she aimed at his head. He leaned over and purposefully whispered to Roxanne, "She was a bit of a nightmare when they made her Captain."

"That's because I had all these idiot boys on my team who kept trying to muck up my season by getting themselves banned from playing," she said pointedly, eyeing her daughter seriously. "And _that, _Roxie, is why you should never trust boys. They always mess everything up."

Roxie laughed loudly as Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head at her mother's statement.

"It turned out alright, though," Angelina went on, "because out of this whole big family of prats, the _only _one who went on to play professionally was also the only girl… and she never would have got the chance to play if this prat," she swung her head in Harry's direction, "hadn't got himself banned."

"Aunt Ginny," Roxie said confidently, nodding her head in agreement with herself.

"That's right," Angelina said. "She turned out to be the best player out of all her brothers and all their pratty friends." She clapped Harry on the back.

He tried not to laugh, but he found it difficult. "I think that's an arguable statement."

"Argue all you want," Angelina said wistfully, "but I don't see Professional Quidditch Player when I look at _your _resume."

"But he has a Chocolate Frog Card!" Roxanne piped up excitedly.

Harry and Angelina both laughed at that, and he nodded his head firmly. "Yeah. So… _there." _He went on, noting George's absence. "Where's George anyway? Not here to defend himself against your verbal abuse, I see."

"I don't know where he is," she said breezily. "He and Fred took off this morning, and I haven't heard from them since. I don't even want to _know _what they're getting up to because I'm sure it's something I wouldn't approve of anyway." She nodded at him. "And what're you doing here?"

He shrugged. "Just stopping by…"

"You and Ginny are still on the outs and you want dinner," she finished knowingly.

He shrugged again. "Or, you know, something like that…"

Angelina snorted and summoned a bowl from the cupboard. She started spooning some stew into it from the large pot on the stove. "You're lucky," she said, offering it to him, "Still hot."

He took the bowl from her and began to eat it eagerly, not bothering to sit down at the table. It was good, tasting of roast and onions.

"I want some."

Angelina looked over at her daughter. "Roxanne, you just finished your dinner. You can't possibly be hungry."

"But I am," she insisted.

Harry scooped a spoonful from his own bowl and held it out to her. She giggled before blowing on it in an effort to cool it and then wrapping her mouth around it. When she had cleaned the spoon, she swallowed and then grinned at him, pushing her tongue through the hole where her tooth ought to be.

"I want ice cream."

Harry and Angelina both laughed, and Angelina shook her head as she crossed the room and lifted Roxanne off the counter and set her on her feet. "You are most certainly _not _having ice cream," she said, grinning. "It's already past your bedtime."

"Well, I'm not sleepy."

"Well, I don't care." Angelina rolled her eyes as she turned Roxanne around by the shoulders and prodded her in the direction of the stairs. "Go up and get ready for bed. I'll come tuck you in."

Roxie looked like she was about to protest again, but sensing her mother's disapproval at such protest, she sighed resignedly. "Good night, Uncle Harry," she said sadly.

"Night, love," he said affectionately, ruffling the curls of her pigtails before she turned and headed up the stairs to her bedroom.

"She really is the cutest thing in the world," he said seriously, turning his attention back to Angelina.

His sister-in-law sighed and shook her head. "Now if only she didn't know it…"

They both laughed again, and he realized it was nice to be away from everything else if even just for a moment. It didn't last too long, though, as Angelina motioned him over to the table and sat down with a cup of tea in her hands. He followed her and continued his dinner properly at the table.

"So, how're things?" she asked, eyeing him carefully. "Besides the obvious, of course."

He wished she hadn't asked. "Nothing besides the obvious," he answered ruefully. "My wife won't speak to me, my son won't speak to me, my other children have both just lost their best mates… And of course, that's only what's going on under _my _roof."

She looked at him sympathetically. "Well, look," she said confidently, "Gin'll come around. She's good at holding grudges, but you know they only last so long. James is just being a little git, but he'll get over that, too. You know, in five or six years when his hormones calm down."

He snorted. "Gee, thanks."

Angelina, though, just shrugged. "You think Fred is a breeze?" she asked daringly. "Where do you think James _learns _it?"

He figured she was probably right, even if she was over-exaggerating a bit. She knew as much about raising a teenage boy as any of them did.

"And as far as Al and Lily go," she went on, "they'll be fine as soon as we find Rose and Hugo."

"Unless we don't find them."

He hadn't meant to say that out loud and was as shocked as Angelina at the words that came out of his mouth. He tried to look down and avoid her gaze, but he could feel her eyes boring into him.

"You can't seriously think that?" she said quietly, something close to fear evident in her voice.

He shrugged, not wanting to look up.

"Harry, we're going to find them," she said firmly. Then, with a little more trepidation, she quietly added, "Aren't we?"

"I don't know what else to do," he admitted, hating himself more with every word he spoke. "I've done everything I can think of, and there's just… nothing."

"But there has to be something," she said immediately. "They didn't just vanish into thin air."

"I don't know what to do," he said again, this time with a hint of urgency in his voice. He felt strange, admitting all of this out loud when he hadn't even dared to admit it privately to himself. And while he and Angelina got on just fine, she certainly wasn't the first person to whom he'd think of confessing deep dark secrets.

"What do Ron and Hermione say?"

"Ron usually says something along the lines of bugger off, and Hermione pretty much says nothing," he answered honestly.

"Well, they've got a lot to deal with," she said slowly.

"I know that," he cut in, hoping he didn't sound too rude. "But I just don't know what else to do. I've done everything I can think of, and now I'm starting to worry that we're not going to find them!"

Angelina opened her mouth to say something else, but they were interrupted by a loud popping noise. George and Fred appeared together out of thin air. Fred was holding onto his father's hand, and Harry realized they must have side-alonged.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Angelina said irritably, nearly dropping her tea cup in a quick startle at their appearance. "Why couldn't you take the Floo?" She frowned at George who looked at her with an odd expression not usually found on his face. He noticed Harry then, too.

"What're you doing here?"

"Just talking," Harry said, studying him closely. He could tell something was up. "What's the matter?"

George glanced behind him as though looking to see if anyone was eavesdropping. When he seemed confident that there was not, in fact, a bevy of reporters in his kitchen, he pulled up a chair and sat down between Harry and Angelina.

"I've just come from The Leaky Cauldron-"

"What do you mean, taking him out to a pub at this time of night?" Angelina asked incredulously, obviously speaking about the teenager who was still in the room.

"Mum, we just went there to see Nev-"

"_Professor Longbottom_," she corrected sharply, and Harry wondered how it was possible that all the women in the family shared the same biting tone when it came to dressing down the men.

"Oh, whatever," Fred said, rolling his eyes.

Angelina looked like she was about to hex him or at least bless him out through and good, but George held his hand up in an attempt to halt the impending fight.

"Just listen, okay?" he raised his eyebrows in what was apparently an attempt to prove his seriousness. Angelina shut her mouth but not without shooting her son a warning glare. George, though, ignored her and just pressed on. "We were at the pub, right? Well, we were just sitting there having a pint with Neville. _I _was having a pint with Neville," he corrected himself quickly to cut his wife's explosion off before it happened. Harry had a sinking suspicion, though, that he'd been truthful with the _we _part. "Anyway, the evening post came in, right? Well, Hannah went to the back to sort it out and read through the paper away from all the noise. A minute later, though, she was running back up to the bar and waving the paper around all mental like…" Harry and Angelina both waited for the finish of the story. When he left them hanging, Angelina rolled her eyes for probably the thousandth time that night.

"Oh, what the hell did it say?" she asked irritably.

George looked at her, his eyes wide with solemnity. He turned the same look on Harry before shaking his head slowly.

"Gregory Goyle is dead." The silence that followed the statement was finally broken when George finished quietly. "Murdered, right in his own flat. _Dead."_

--

Okay, I'm very sorry for the long delay, but I got held up in London a lot longer than I expected and didn't have any time at all to write. I'm back now, though, and I hope I don't have to go anywhere else for a loooong time (especially not there because the Underground construction is a freaking mess)! Thanks for reading, and please review!


	12. Chapter 12

Teddy often wondered what it would be like to have real siblings

LOST

Chapter 12

I own nothing.

--

Teddy often wondered what it would be like to have real siblings.

He certainly had enough pseudo-siblings, most notably the Potter kids. They annoyed him in the same manner that all of his friends' younger siblings annoyed them, but he was also confident that he would take a killing curse for any one of them without a second thought. The Potters were his family as much as if they were blood related. He'd grown up thinking of them as his family, and their house had always been his second home.

He knew, as everyone did, that things weren't entirely peaceful at the Potter home these days. He rightly guessed that Harry and Ginny were fighting, as neither of them seemed too overly thrilled with the other. He knew, too, that Harry and James were still on the outs. Teddy, who had always been rather good at getting through to James, felt a bit guilty that he hadn't been around much lately. He was awfully busy at the shop, training up some new staff members who had recently been hired. In addition to his job, he was also working on his applications for the Auror Academy. He'd made up his mind to at least apply, thanks in large part to Harry's encouragement. Victoire was still not thrilled with the decision, but she was coming about. Slowly but surely…

Victoire, of course, was the other reason why he'd found less and less time to visit the Potters. She'd all but moved into his flat, though she made sure to spend all of her nights at home at Shell Cottage. Her mum hadn't sold her out yet and had, at least thus far, kept the morning she'd walked in on them naked a secret. Victoire did not want to press her luck and knew that if she tried to test her mother that she'd have her father to deal with immediately. Teddy, while he missed her terribly at night and would undoubtedly sleep much better beside her, was also infinitely grateful that Bill Weasley hadn't come to murder him yet.

It still amazed him sometimes that he'd managed to fall in love with Victoire. She had been his best friend as a child, and as the oldest children, they'd made a game out of bullying and bossing the younger kids. Victoire, especially, was good at it and often lamented to him the tragedy of having so many younger siblings and cousins who were _so _immature. During their years at Hogwarts, he and Victoire had still remained close, though, of course, they each had their own separate group of friends. He felt a great need to protect her and watch over her, more so even than the younger Weasleys who followed her to Hogwarts.

His over-protectiveness only got worse as she got older. In fact, he would never forget the second something inside of him snapped and pushed him completely over the edge. The first fight he ever got into at school happened after he over heard two of his roommates, Denton McClure and Lyle Bennings, discussing _in detail _exactly what they'd like to do to "that little Weasley girl." She had been a Fourth Year at the time. Teddy had snapped and had, incidentally, ended up getting his arse kicked in the two on one fight that followed. He didn't care, though; he wasn't going to sit around and listen to those idiots say those kinds of things about Victoire.

Unfortunately, it was definitely not the last time he heard such comments. Victoire drew the attention of nearly every boy in the school, no matter what age. She was, without question, beautiful and nearly always the winner of the "Which girl would you most like to shag?" discussions that so often took place in the boys' dormitories. He watched as she went out with boy after boy, none of them ever being too overly nice to her. It bothered him for reasons he wished it wouldn't, all the way up to the point where he was forced to admit that he was jealous. _That _was certainly something he struggled with for awhile. It bothered him that Victoire of all people was capable of making his stomach sick with jealousy like that. He'd taught her how to climb a tree and gone starkers in the pond with her as toddlers for crying out loud. It was really, really confusing.

But wow, was that kind of torture worth it in the end.

Victoire was amazing in every aspect. She was beyond simply beautiful- tall, slender, wide blue eyes, and pale blonde hair that fell down her back in a thick straight sheet. She was very smart, too, and she was actually able to engage him in conversation that interested him. The best part, though, was that to be as beautiful and prissy as she was, she was also a Quidditch fanatic and one of the stars of the Gryffindor team. She painted her nails up with varnish, but she had no problem when mud got caked underneath them. She really was the best of both worlds.

She certainly wasn't his first girlfriend or the first girl he'd ever had in his bed, but he was beyond confident that she would be the last. He had never been more sure of anything in his entire life. It scared him sometimes, how serious he felt about her. She was the only thing he could think about 95 of the time, certainly his first thought in the morning and his last at night. He wanted to spend every second with her, wanted to spend _forever _with her.

In short, he wanted to marry her.

He didn't have the money right now to buy her a ring or anything else. He was just getting used to living on his own, and his budget wasn't allowing for much else at the moment. He knew, of course, that he could ask George for a raise, but he somehow didn't feel comfortable doing so when he had every intention of joining the Aurors as soon as his paperwork could be processed. He had nothing in savings and no trust fund, as his parents hadn't had anything to leave him. His only other option, of course, was to ask for a loan. His grandmother didn't have much extra money, and he wouldn't dream of asking her for what she did have. He knew the only person he felt comfortable asking who might actually oblige him was Harry, and it was with those intentions that he dropped in on the Potter household late one Tuesday afternoon.

Lily answered the door and immediately wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. She looked so sad, and he felt awful as he realized she must have been taking the news of Hugo's disappearance pretty badly. He picked her up, and she pressed her face into his shoulder. He couldn't believe she was ten years old now, just a year away from Hogwarts. He wanted her to still be the infant she'd been when he himself had left for Hogwarts, and he felt strangely nostalgic thinking back to that time.

"Where's your dad?" he asked, patting her gently on the back as he closed the door behind him.

Lily, though, simply shook her head and didn't lift her face. She was clinging to his neck tightly, and he almost felt like he might suffocate.

Apparently hearing the door, Al walked into the entryway and greeted him.

"Get off, Lily," he told her, irritated. "Teddy doesn't want you hanging all over him."

Lily ignored her brother and squeezed him even tighter.

"Is your dad here?" Teddy asked, glancing over her shoulder at Al.

"No, he's at work. And Mum went to pick up the book lists."

"Who's watching you then?"

Al rolled his eyes. "James supposedly."

Teddy found this odd and wondered if this was a new development- Jamie watching the younger children. He wasn't positive that it was the best idea anyone'd ever had…

"Where is he?" he asked, thinking that this was probably the perfect time to step into the role of big brother.

"In his room where he always is," Lily mumbled, speaking up for the first time.

"Well, I'm going to run up and talk to him." He kissed Lily on the top of the head and set her down; she clung to his neck, but let go when Al pulled her back by the elbow.

"If your mum or dad show up, let them know I'm here?"

Al nodded, and Teddy took the stairs two at a time until he reached the top. The door to James' room was closed, and he could hear music through the wood. Carefully, he reached up and knocked.

"Go away!" was the immediate response.

Realizing that James expected the knocker to be one of his younger siblings, he called to him, raising his voice a little to be heard over the music. "It's Teddy."

He heard the wireless switch off and waited patiently until James opened the door.

"What's up, mate?" Teddy asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. "You've got quite the mess here," he noted, stepping into the room as James moved aside to allow him entrance.

"I like it that way." James shrugged and sat back down on his bed.

Teddy side-stepped a pile of dirty clothes and dropped onto the other end of the bed. It was unmade as usual. "Are you excited to go back to school?"

James shrugged again. "Get out of here, I guess… Not so much the school part."

"It's not so bad," Teddy said, settling back on his elbows.

"I guess."

"And not so bad here, either, is it?"

James rolled his eyes. "You've obviously never lived here."

"You still mad at your parents?" He raised his eyebrows, daring James to lie about it.

James, for what it was worth, didn't hesitate on answering. "They're both full of shite, and I can't wait to get out of here."

Teddy hadn't expected him to be quite _that _blunt about it. "What makes you say that?" He was feeling the territory out and didn't want to ambush James.

"You were there that day," James said simply.

"What day?"

"The day Al and I got in that fight." He narrowed his eyes at the memory. "You saw how much trouble I got in and how he got coddled!"

It was true. Teddy had been there that day and had witnessed the aftermath of the fight. He and Victoire had been among the people who had stayed inside after the commotion was heard from outside. Coincidentally, they'd also been among the people who witnessed the blow up that occurred after James came storming back in the house, slamming the door shut behind him. They'd all heard the resulting shouting match that had taken place in the kitchen after Harry caught up with him. Truthfully, it had been more than a bit uncomfortable, and Teddy had considered leaving- several other people did. He stayed, though, and he was there when Ginny brought Al into the kitchen and started cleaning him up, as he was both blood and dirt stained. She, too, had joined the shouting match, and Teddy himself had winced as both parents laid into James ruthlessly, all the while never saying anything to Al except to make sure he was feeling okay.

"And you know what?" James asked lowly. "He started it. _He _hit _me _first. But, of course, _I'm _the one who got punished."

Teddy called him on this. "He got punished, too."

James rolled his eyes. "That's not what I'm talking about. Who cares about getting put on restrictions? Where the hell would we go anyway?!" His eyes narrowed again. "I'm talking about them yelling like that and saying that stuff to me. They hate me."

"Jamie, they do not hate you," Teddy said reasonably.

"Yeah, they do. They can't stand me because I'm not as perfect as Al or as cute as Lily."

"That's not true. They just-"

He was cut off by James who raised his voice. "I know which one of us they like, and it's not me! I'm not the bloody Harry Potter clone that Al is, and it pisses them off."

Teddy was surprised by this angle. He hadn't considered that James would be feeling all of that, and he wondered how long this had been building. "What were you even fighting about?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

James frowned and looked away, his brown eyes seemed to turn a half shade darker. "All I did was tell him the truth," he muttered.

"What truth?"

Sighing, James finally met his eye again. "About Rose. About how everyone keeps saying they're going to find her and she's going to be fine and how it's all bullshit."

"Why do you think it's bullshit?"

"Because," James said firmly, "they've been looking for her for more than a month, almost _two _months, and they're nowhere closer to finding her than they were on her birthday. And the truth is, she's probably not fine, she's probably dead. And when they do find her, all they're going to find is a body."

He said all of this very quickly, and Teddy was shocked to say the least. James was the first person, at least to his knowledge, to even think about saying something like that out loud. He seemed to know it, too.

"I know I'm not supposed to say that," he went on. "Because it'll upset everyone and Aunt Hermione is pregnant and blah, blah, blah." He rolled his eyes. "Do you known none of them have asked how _I _am about all this?"

"About Rose?"

He nodded. "Yeah. They all want to coddle Al and Lily because they think they're the only ones who have a right to be upset by it. I mean, Rose isn't my best friend, but she's still my cousin, you know?"

"I know."

"And they act like I shouldn't even be bothered or concerned. Just because we fight sometimes doesn't mean I don't care what happens to her."

Teddy was surprised. Saying that James and Rose fought _sometimes _was quite an understatement. They were at each other's throats constantly, more than any other two people in their entire family. He wasn't sure what it was that made getting along so difficult for them, but they fought and bickered constantly. He was surprised to hear that sort of tenderness come from James in regards to his cousin.

"And," James carried right on, and Teddy got the feeling he'd been dying to let all of this out for sometime now, "now Hugo's gone, but they act like I shouldn't care about that, either. And I've always liked Hugo a lot, you know that."

"Maybe you ought to talk to your dad about this stuff, mate," he said helpfully, trying not to sound too stupid.

James did not even want to entertain the notion, though. He scoffed at Teddy. "I'm not talking to him about anything."

"You know, your dad's a pretty understanding person. I really think you should let him know how you're feeling…"

"He is not understanding," James said incredulously. "You just think that because he likes you! You're like the Al of his godchildren."

"Well," Teddy said, smirking, "when your only competition is Rose Weasley, it's pretty easy to come out looking like an angel…"

James' face twitched, and Teddy was glad to see him finally smile. "I guess that's true," he said, shrugging.

It _was_ true. Rose, to be as brilliant as she was, probably got into more trouble than all the other kids in the family combined. It wasn't even because she was sneaky or pulled pranks or any of the stuff that so often got some of the others, namely Fred and James, in trouble. It was because of her mouth. Being as smart as she was gave her an almost automatic smart-alecky tone to her voice. She had a habit of speaking to people like they were stupid, and she tended to do things like make demands rather than ask for things nicely. It didn't help matters that out of all the women in her entire family, she had the strictest for a mother. She really did seem to be in trouble more than everyone else put together…

Teddy, wanting to keep up James' good nature, decided to let him in on the plan. "Can you keep a secret?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"Mum and Dad still don't know about Daphne," James replied coyly. Teddy smirked, remembering the night he'd snuck Daphne into the Potters' house while staying with them one week during the summer. James, who had been ten at the time, was the only one who caught on, but he truthfully never tattled.

"Well," Teddy said, drawing a breath nervously, "I'm going to ask Vic to marry me."

If he had been expecting elation, he was sadly mistaken. James stared at him in disbelief, and this his face twisted in disgust. "You want to _marry _her?!"

"Well, yeah…"

"But… but _why?!" _James spluttered. He shook his head at Teddy's look of confusion. "I mean, I know she's pretty, but it's _Victoire! _She's so… _bossy!"_

Teddy laughed loudly, both at the look on James' face and his choice of insults.

"You just don't know," James said seriously. "Maybe she doesn't boss you because you're older than she is, but she will. And trust me…"

"She's bossed me since the day she was born," Teddy laughed.

"And you _like _that?"

Truthfully, he did… but not in the way James was thinking, and that was definitely _not _a conversation he was about to get into with him. Instead, he subtly defended Victoire. "There's a lot more to her than bossiness," he said calmly.

"Yeah, I know," James twisted his face again. "They talk about her in my dorm, too, you know?"

Teddy nearly choked. "What do they say?" he demanded.

James looked pale and a bit like he wanted to vomit. "Come on, Ted, she's my _cousin," _he said desperately.

The look on the younger boy's face was almost enough to make Teddy forget his previous urge to pound a group of randy fourteen year olds.

"It's going to make everyone mad, you know," James said knowingly.

"How do you figure?"

"Because Vic's just barely graduated. And you _know _Uncle Bill isn't going to like it. And anyway," he went on, his eyes widening just a bit, "have you ever seen her Aunt Gabrielle? Now _that's _who you should like…" He grinned in a way that let Teddy know he'd put plenty of thought into it. Not that he blamed him, of course. He'd met Gabrielle a few times, most recently at Victoire's graduation. She, like her sister and her nieces, was stunningly beautiful, and the Veela gene seemed almost stronger in her than it was in the others- probably because she spoke entirely in French, and French, as Victoire loved to remind him, made _everything _sound sexy.

He was about to point this out when he heard a popping sound from downstairs that signaled an Apparation. "You keep Gabrielle out of your head," he said teasingly. "She's about twenty years too old for you."

"Nah, just about fifteen or so," James shook his head, though a smile glinted across his features.

"Alright, mate, call me if you need anything." He stood up and pushed James' head backwards in teasing affection. "And remember, it's a secret."

"Don't worry," James said, ducking. "I won't tell anyone you're about to make the biggest mistake of your life." He raised his eyebrows daringly.

"You're lucky one of your parents just got here," Teddy replied with fake-seriousness. "Or I'd be forced to kick your arse."

James rolled his eyes but laughed.

With another wink, Teddy headed downstairs, excited to grab Harry's attention for a quick chat. He was slightly disappointed, however, when he found Ginny instead.

"Oh, hello, Teddy," she said, only slightly startled as she flicked her wand at the groceries that started organizing themselves on the shelves.

"I thought you went for book lists?"

She nodded. "I did. But then I decided my children probably needed to eat, so I stopped for food as well."

Teddy nodded. He was very comfortable around Ginny, but he had come to their house with a purpose. He certainly was not going to let her in on the news that he was planning to propose to Victoire. She would call Fleur before he could even Disapparate.

"Are you looking for Harry?" she asked, seeming to read his mind. She was bent over a book she'd just picked up and seemed a bit distracted.

"Um, yeah, actually," he said as nonchalantly as possible. "Do you know when he'll be home?"

"Oh, I wouldn't even bother looking for him here," she said, and he thought he sensed a tone of bitterness in her voice. "He's hardly ever here. You might try the Ministry," she shrugged. "Or Ron and Hermione's. Those are the only places he cares to be."

Teddy had no desire to get in the middle of _that _particular argument, so he just nodded slowly. "Okay, well… I guess I'll head home. I've got to finish up some inventory paperwork." It was a total lie, but Ginny either didn't notice or didn't care.

"Okay," she said breezily, still engaged with the book she was hunched over. "Have fun."

He told her goodbye and Disapparated.

Victoire's ring would have to wait…

--

Hugo wasn't quite sure how it happened. He woke up feeling completely disoriented and realized almost immediately that he couldn't remember anything from… well, he didn't know how long.

He remembered leaving, remembered leaving the note on his pillow and using his broom to take off in search of his sister… but after that, everything was a blank. When he woke up, the first thing that he noticed was that his head hurt. _Badly. _When he reached up to touch it, he was startled to feel a fresh scab under his fingertips. He glanced around for a mirror, but there was absolutely nothing around him except for a broken candle and a random tin cup. The tiny room he was in smelled like piss, and it made him sick to his stomach.

Terrified to make any noise, he quietly stood up and walked to the opposite wall where a ragged door stood. He knew without question that he was in danger, whether or not there was anyone physically around or not. He pushed on the door and wasn't entirely surprised when nothing happened. Swearing under his breath, he shoved a bit harder and was shocked when the door flew open.

It hadn't been his own strength that had successfully broken the lock but rather a person on the other side simply opening the door. It was a woman, not all-together a _frightening _woman, but he was still scared.

To his surprise, she didn't reach over and choke him or anything equally as awful. Instead, she _smiled _at him.

"Hello, love," she said sweetly. "You must be Hugo!"

"Who are you?"

She just smiled again and shook her head. "That's not important. Here, let's go find your sister."

That threw him for a loop. "You know where my sister is?"

"Of course, love," she said brightly. "Rosie and I are great friends."

There was something infinitely wrong about the entire situation, and Hugo wanted desperately to make a run for it. He knew, of course, that getting away would be next to impossible, and the thought of seeing Rose made him follow the woman into the corridor as she held the door open for him.

She chatted mindlessly about anything and everything, Hugo wasn't paying attention. He just followed her down a hallway until they reached a dead end. She held out her hand in offering, but Hugo just stared at her.

"You've got to Apparate in, dear," she said kindly. "No doors."

With no other choice, Hugo carefully placed his hand in the lady's, shuddering slightly at the contact. He'd done side-along Apparation a couple of times before with his parents, and he knew before they even started the process that he wasn't going to enjoy it. A tugging feeling started crawling up in him, and he felt as though all of his insides were being sucked out.

A second later, though, he opened his eyes and found himself in a completely different room. This one was much brighter and had a little bed and a table and…

_Rose._

Their eyes met instantly, and he felt the breath leave his lungs. They stared at each other for what seemed like a really long time, both of them speechless.

"Hugo?" Her voice triggered something inside of him, and he was actually thrilled when she let out something close to a half-laugh/half-sob and rushed at him.

The times Rose hugged him were few and far between. She was much more likely to slap him than hug him, so he was a bit surprised when she ran at him and threw her arms around him. She almost crushed him, she was hugging him so tightly. It actually felt… nice, and he hugged her back. He had missed her, no matter how much he didn't want to admit it. And the fact that she was alive and okay and _right here _almost made him burst into tears.

"I'm going to leave you two alone." He realized that the woman who'd brought him in was speaking, but he paid her no attention. With a pop, she disappeared, and Hugo hugged his sister even more tightly.

Finally, she pulled back a bit, and Hugo saw the giant smile covering her face. "What're you doing here?" she asked in what he assumed was disbelief.

He shook his head. "I dunno…" he admitted quietly.

"But how did you _get _here?!"

"I just… I was going to look for you, but… I don't know." He looked around the room, a feeling of complete and total shock overtaking him. "Rosie, where _are _we?"

Rose frowned. A second later, she took a step backwards. "Why did you come here?"

He wanted to scream at her, but he didn't. "We've got to get out of here."

Rose faltered, then she took a deep breath and seemed to steel herself. "I don't want to leave."

He wasn't sure he heard her right. "What?!" he asked, completely flabbergasted. "Are you mental?"

She narrowed her eyes, sending him a glare that looked much more like the Rose he knew. "You should go."

He didn't know what to say. He couldn't believe she could even say these things. "You're crazy."

"Oh, shut up," she said hatefully, her mood completely changing. "I don't know what you're doing here, but you need to leave and go run back to Mum and Dad before they actually start to worry about you."

"What're you talking about?"

And then she seemed to snap. "Where are they?" she demanded hatefully.

"Who?" he asked, wary of the response.

"Mum and Dad!" she cried, her eyes going wide. "Why are you here and they're not?"

"I… I-"

She cut him off. "I know they don't care," she said quickly. "I know everybody stopped looking. Nobody's worried about me. Just go home, Hugo."

"Where did you get _that _from?" he asked incredulously.

"It's been more than a month! They should have been here a long time ago, but they don't care! Why would they when they've gone and decided to have another baby to replace me with?"

Hugo had no idea what she was talking about, and he told her as much. "_What?"_

"I know all about it." She crossed her arms angrily. "So just go back and tell them I don't care about them, either." There were tears welling in her eyes.

"They've been looking everywhere for you!" he answered back, growing angry himself. "That's all they do is spend every second of every single day obsessed with _you!"_

He couldn't believe that she could stand there and say those things. She had no idea what it had been like at home. His parents barely acknowledged his existence, they were so preoccupied with Rose. And all she could do was stand there and act like she was the only one affected.

What a bitch.

Rose was quiet for a long moment, and then he watched a few tears drop from her eyes. She looked at the floor and finally mumbled, "Why haven't they found me?"

"Because nobody knows where you are!" He shook his head. "Dad and Uncle Harry have the whole department looking for you, and Mum's lost her whole head about it. But nobody can figure anything out!"

Rose looked like she didn't know what to believe.

"Rose, look," he said firmly. "We have to get out of here. Who _are _these people anyway?"

"They're nice," she said quietly. "And anyway, we can't go anywhere. There're no doors…"

He looked all around him and realized they really were in a doorless room.

"How did you get here?" she asked again.

"I ran away. I took my broom and…" he stopped himself, realizing something. "They stole my broom!"

Rose looked worried, and she was fidgeting nervously, glancing around worriedly.

Hugo remembered, though, that he'd taken one other thing along with the broom. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he let out a sigh of relief. Whoever brought him here apparently wasn't bright enough to make sure he wasn't armed. Rose's eyes lit up as he drew the object out of his pocket.

"My wand!"

--

Okay, so there's another update. The next one should come soon. Please read and review!


	13. Chapter 13

Hermione had tried very hard over the years to block most of her childhood from her memory

LOST

Chapter 13

It still belongs to JK Rowling.

--

Hermione had tried very hard over the years to block most of her childhood from her memory. It wasn't entirely awful, of course; her parents had always been good to her and tried their hardest to make her happy, even when they were forced to deal with strange and unexplained occurrences that seemed to happen all around her. Still, though, the majority of her childhood memories did not come from those quiet times at home… they came from primary school.

Primary school, for Hermione, had been little more than a nightmare. As eager as she'd been to learn, she had pretty much dreaded each and every day. She'd never questioned her own intelligence and had, in fact, known from a very young age that she was far above average when it came to knowing things and learning. It never occurred to her, though, that this was a bad thing, not until she started school anyway. She realized quickly that being quicker and smarter made her different, something no child ever wanted to be. The kids in her class teased her relentlessly, called her names and accused her of sucking up to teachers. To make matters worse, they made fun of everything about her- from her clothes to her hair to her teeth… even to the way she talked. Her parents tried to comfort her, but, of course, it was no help. They were never there when she was being teased, so them assuring her that things would be fine after the fact did little to calm her down.

It didn't help matters, either, that so many weird things seemed to happen around her, especially when she lost control of her emotions. There was one day in particular that stood out in her mind, and she could recall it as easily as if it had happened yesterday. She was nine years old, and her class was on maths. She was always very good with numbers and grasped all the concepts her teacher threw out extremely easily. On that particular day, she had been called to the board to finish a complicated division problem that she suspected Ms Lunning threw out specially for her. She got it right, of course, on the first try, and her teacher praised her openly. Hermione, for one brief moment, had felt proud of herself and happy that she could please the teacher. However, as she returned to her seat, she saw Gemma Parker and Eleanor Cowell making beaver faces at each other and bouncing in their seats eagerly. They were making fun of her. And everyone around them was laughing. Ms Lunning shushed the class and went on with the lesson, but Hermione could no longer concentrate. She remembered the hot flushing feeling of her face as she realized she was going to cry. She should have excused herself to the loo, but she didn't want to draw anymore attention to herself, so she simply sat at her desk with her head down and tried to open her eyes as wide as they would possibly go to prevent any tears from falling.

"Oh, god, she's going to cry!" It was Gemma who whispered it, just loudly enough for her to hear it but not loudly enough to be heard by the teacher. Several people giggled, and Hermione closed her eyes tightly, effectively blocking any and all tears.

The crash that followed drew the entire class' attention, and Ms Lunning gasped when she saw the disarray of her classroom. Gemma's desk had simply collapsed, leaving the girl to fall heavily to the floor in what appeared to be a very painful fashion. All of her books and papers scattered across the room, flying in all directions.

Gemma was crying her own tears as Ms Lunning rushed over to help her up. Hermione stared at her in shock and was even more surprised when the other girl glared at her with enough hate to kill an army of men.

"Hermione did it!" she accused heatedly and loudly.

Hermione, in total and complete shock, shook her head in disbelief. "How could I have done?!"

Ms Lunning tried to quiet them both and put things back in order, but Gemma was far too gone to notice. "I don't know!" she cried. "But I know you did, you're like some bloody little witch or something!"

Hermione did not wait around for the reaction. She heard Ms Lunning chastise Gemma immediately, both for her language and her accusation, and she heard several of her classmates gasp, laugh, and begin whispering that she was a witch. However, she was gone before anyone could address her directly. She ran straight from the classroom to the girls' bathroom where she locked herself in the last stall and refused to come out until her mother was finally called to come collect her. Her mum coddled her that night at home, hugging her and running her hand over her hair. She let her stay out of school the next day, too, claiming she needed to rest, though Hermione knew it was for other reasons.

And then, two years later, her whole life changed.

She found out that she wasn't just an awful freak, she was finally able to put a name to all the weird things that happened around her- _magic. _She really _was _a witch. Of course, it was a hard pill to swallow and more than a bit unbelievable. She still wasn't sure exactly why her parents even entertained the notion for more than half a second, but they did. They were terrified, of course, and beyond confused… but they let her go anyway. They sent her off to a whole new world, a place they knew nothing about.

And she had never been more miserable in her entire life.

It was strange to believe that now, as she was so immersed in the Wizarding world and everything that came with it. But as an eleven year old child, she'd been both amazed and terrified. She was extremely interested in learning everything she could, as was her nature, but to say she was overwhelmed would be an extreme understatement. She was faced with not just new lessons but an entire new _world, _and it was exhausting.

On top of that, she was homesick beyond comprehension. If magic was supposed to make things easier then she couldn't understand why she had to write a letter and send it by owl instead of picking up a telephone and making direct contact with her parents. She missed them terribly, and every day that went by seemed to make matters worse. She wanted to go home so badly that she actually contemplated running away from the castle on more than one occasion during her first months at school.

The kids at Hogwarts were no different than the ones at her primary. They teased her and called her names, made fun of her, and mocked her because she would rather study than play card games. The only difference, of course, was that while she'd been able to escape back to her home each evening after school, she was now forced to live with the same kids who made her life hell during lessons. She had no use for her roommates and had considered both Lavender and Parvati to be materialistic, ditsy, annoying cows. To her, they were simply vapid, ignorant girls who cared only about themselves and couldn't see the world past the tip of their perfectly powdered noses. They giggled about her behind her back and made no effort to include her in their rapidly growing close friendship. The boys were no better, of course, probably even worse. She hated all of them, and she spent the first two months of her magical education crying herself to sleep each night, listening to her roommates make rude comments about her as though she weren't even in the room.

Things got better, of course, and two of the people she despised most in those early months quickly became the first friends she'd ever had in her life. She wasn't exaggerating to say that her life really had begun with Ron and Harry, everything in her life started falling into place. They went through heaven and hell and everything in between together over the years, and she owed those two more than she could ever put into words.

Now, though, they were all grown up.

One best friend became her husband and the other became her brother. She couldn't have predicted it all those years ago when she was lecturing them on Nicolas Flamel.

Back then, Harry was awkward and shy. He was incredibly quiet most of the time, and despite the fact that he was a boy legend, he was pretty much rubbish at all his lessons. He was as amazed by the world around them as Hermione was, not to mention overwhelmed by sudden fame that engulfed him from all sides. He was the Boy Who Lived, but to her he was just the boy with oversized clothes and messy hair who needed her help on every bit of homework he even attempted. Now, though, he was a world's difference from the shy, awkward eleven year old she'd first known. He was confident and a bit intimidating, as Head of the Auror department should be, of course. He spoke up for what he believed in and never hesitated to act when he knew he was needed. Some things, though, would never change. He was still a bit on the short side, his hair still as messy as ever… He still hated newspapers and shied away from the spotlight and his fame whenever possible. But now he was a man- a husband, a father… godfather, even, to her own daughter. He was, and would forever be, her best friend.

As quiet and timid as Harry had been at eleven, though, Ron had been the opposite. She could recall him at that age as easily as she could anything. He was such a prat, and he was probably the person she despised most in those early months. He was rude and loud and vulgar. He swore too much and always seemed to be rolling his eyes at her. He spoke up where Harry wouldn't and made a habit out of telling her to leave them alone, go away, go back to brown-nosing, run off to the library, or whatever else it was that he could come up with off the top of his head. It irritated her that he didn't seem to care at all about school or learning or anything of real importance. He was just a stupid, silly little boy to her, no different than the ones she'd left behind in the other world.

It was the weirdest thing in the world for her to look back to those days. The years that followed, of course, changed everything, but they certainly didn't have an easy time of it. He drove her insane, for multiple reasons, and they spent more time not speaking than otherwise… but it all came together in the end. He was everything to her and had been for a long, long time. Her whole world was wrapped up in him, and she couldn't imagine anything different. She loved him for so many different reasons, more than she would know how to count. Underneath everything, though, beyond husband and wife and Mummy and Daddy and kids and jobs, they were still best friends. And she loved him for _that _more than anything else.

He was under so much stress these days, and she felt awful for making him shoulder everything alone. They'd had more than one argument about it, as she was desperate to get up and _do _something, _anything. _She felt useless lying around all day, but he wouldn't even let her prepare a sandwich. He insisted on doing _everything _for her, and while they bickered about it, she did honestly appreciate it. It just wasn't right, though, for him to be taking care of everything and her to be doing nothing. They'd been a team since they were kids, and now, when the stakes were the highest they'd ever been, she couldn't do anything at all to help.

It'd been awhile since he'd come to check on her, and she figured he was downstairs working on something or going through some files. He spent any and all extra time, after all, trying desperately to fit something together, though so far he wasn't having much luck. He was _so_ desperate. He was trying _so _hard. She knew how useless he felt because she felt the same, probably worse. She hated seeing him fall back into old habits of self-deprecation, but it was happening. He was falling further and further into self-doubt and worthlessness, and it killed her to watch.

Deciding that she could lie in bed for not one second longer, she pushed the covers off of her and carefully stood up. Unsurprisingly, her legs felt wobbly, as she'd hardly used them at all over the past few days. She got her grounding back quickly, though, and she quietly walked toward the front of the house. When she got to the main sitting room, she was surprised to find that Ron was not hunched over a mess of paper but was, instead, asleep, his legs sliding halfway off the sofa and his head tilted at a terribly awkward angle.

She was glad to see that he was finally resting, as she wasn't sure he'd slept more than two hours in the past three days. He was overworking himself, and she knew firsthand that exhaustion did very little to improve situations. Knowing from the way that he was positioned that he must have fallen into his kip unexpectedly, she walked over to make him more comfortable. She was careful to disturb him as little as possible as she moved his legs to rest completely on the sofa and turned his shoulders just so that his head fell comfortably onto the armrest. He mumbled something sleepily, and she held still for a moment to make sure he wasn't waking up. Pointing her wand in the direction of the hallway closet, she quietly mumbled a Summoning spell, and a blanket came flying into her arms. With a mothering instinct she'd picked up a long time ago in his regards, she carefully draped the cover over him, making sure to smooth the wrinkles out so that it covered him almost completely.

Just as she was finishing, though, she felt him start to stir, and he mumbled something else. She froze, hoping that she hadn't disturbed him to the point of waking. A second later, though, his eyes fluttered open, and he looked at her through heavy lids.

"What're you doing up?" he asked sleepily.

"I was going for a glass of water," she answered quietly, trying to lull him back to slumber. "Go back to sleep."

"You shouldn't be up," he mumbled.

"I'm fine," she insisted, straightening up.

He didn't seem to hear her, or at least he paid her no attention. He moved to sit up, his voice still a mumble. "I'll get it for you."

"Ronald Weasley," she said sternly, halting him with an outstretched hand, "you will do no such thing. I am perfectly capable of getting myself a drink of water."

He rolled his eyes but did not get up.

She went to the kitchen as planned and poured herself a glass. When she returned to the sitting room, she found Ron still sitting up, though he was now rubbing his temple slowly.

"You need to sleep, love," she said quietly, dropping onto the sofa beside him.

"I'm fine," he echoed her earlier sentiment. "I'm not tired."

"You haven't slept in days." When he started to protest, she cut him off. "Thirty minute naps don't count."

He didn't argue. There was silence for a moment as she sipped her water and he stared pointedly into space. Finally, he spoke up. "I had a dream. About the kids." She looked over at him, waiting for him to finish. It took him a second, but he eventually went on. "I dreamed they were together. And Rosie was taking care of Hugo."

Hermione leaned back into the cushions and sighed softly to herself. "Were they okay?"

"They were fine," he said, settling back as well.

Hermione wished it was true. She wished that they were both fine and that they were together and taking care of each other. She was a logical person, though, beyond all else. The chances of her children being together was slim to none, and even if they were, there was absolutely no guarantee that either of them was fine.

"I miss them." Hermione was surprised at the sound of Ron's voice as he made the confession, and she turned her head to see an extremely serious look on his face.

"Me, too," she whispered, closing her eyes and opening them again to see his own eyes shining with unshed tears. She could tell he was working very hard to keep them from falling. He wasn't a crier, at least not a public one. She was sure she could count on her hands the total number of times she'd seen him cry in her entire life, and some of those had been happy tears. Not wanting to make a big deal out of it, she gently laid her head against his shoulder and took his hand without speaking.

They sat like that for some time, and Hermione had nearly drifted off to sleep when she heard him whisper again. She could tell without looking that he'd started crying; his voice was choked with tears. "I don't know where else to look."

"There's got to be something," she answered quietly. "There _has_ to be."

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he muttered, and she could hear the tears in his voice once again. "I'm sorry I can't fix this…"

"Ron, this is nothing of your doing."

"But it is," he pressed on. "This is what I'm supposed to do. I can't even protect my own fucking family!"

"You can't help this," she said firmly. "I can't help it, you can't help it. This isn't something we can control!"

He was about to say something else, she knew, but they were interrupted by an incessant tapping at their window. They both looked up in mild surprise to see an unfamiliar owl perched on the sill. It looked rather regal and a bit on the tired side, as though it had made a rather long journey.

Ron got up to open the window and let it in. He untied the letter attached to its foot and tossed it a couple of treats from the jar on top of the mantle.

"Who is it?" Hermione asked curiously, turning her head to see.

Ron was opening the envelope and walking back toward her. He settled down on the sofa beside her, and they read the letter together. Unfamiliar lettering scrawled across the parchment, and Hermione felt her heart speed up as she read the words.

_To two of my oldest friends…_

_You'll understand, of course, if I don't deliver this news in person. I do have my own family to worry about, and while I have yet to make the mistake of misplacing my children, there is never a time drop caution. Constant vigilance, of course, as a dear professor was once quoted as saying before he went around ferreting about and causing havoc._

_You should know that they are likely watching your every move, so it would be wise to control your tempers for once and not visibly lose your cool, as you are both so well-known to do... Through an unnamed source, I have been given a bit of information that will probably interest you. They've got your son as well, and both of your children are being held together. They are not in imminent danger, at least to my knowledge, but there is a much larger plan in place that could, if enacted, mean much harm to them both. While I am unsure of an exact location, I have reason to believe that they are located somewhere in east London. Perhaps try the Bethnal Green area; I do believe there is a small pub located there down a back street by the tube station. It is, of course, hidden from the Muggle eye and appears as nothing more than an abandoned book shop. I am sure with the brains that are possessed between you, or at least within one of you, that you will be able to find a way inside. You will meet an old friend there, someone I'm sure you're quite eager to see._

_This letter should, of course, be kept in the strictest of confidence, as you will undoubtedly agree that I have no reason whatsoever to be extending such knowledge. Again, remember that you are being closely watched and that any rash movements will likely be spotted immediately. _

_Sincerely,_

_The Dearest of Your Friends_

_PS- Congratulations on your newest addition. I was just thinking to myself that the world didn't have enough red hair in it…_

Hermione, who read fast by nature, had read the letter twice by the time Ron looked up in shock. They stared at each other, and then almost as if on cue, they looked around nervously, both wondering if they were being watched at that very moment. Without having to think twice, Hermione stood up and cast a revealing spell. When nothing happened and they were both confident that their home was not bugged, they looked at each other again, mirroring expressions on both their faces.

"Malfoy," Ron said quietly, echoing her own thoughts exactly. _"Ferreting about…"_

"Why would he do this?" she asked suspiciously. "Why would he ever try to help us?"

Ron shook his head. "D'you think it's a set up?"

She didn't know what to think. "It could be," she said slowly. "But what if it's not?"

Her heart was fluttering in her chest. She didn't want to get her hopes up, especially when their only form of a lead was coming from Draco Malfoy… but the thought of finding Rose and Hugo was overpowering. She needed them home so badly, _so _badly….

"Should we go?" he asked, suddenly wide awake and with no sign of his earlier tears. "We can go now."

Hermione, while she was as anxious as he was to find the kids, was also wary of jumping the gun, especially given the fact that the letter clearly stated they were being watched. "I think we should tell Harry," she said logically. "We don't need to run off and not tell anyone."

Before she'd finished her sentence, Ron had thrown powder into the fire and was sticking his head into it. She couldn't hear the conversation, but it was so short that she rightly deduced he'd simply called him and told him to come over. Harry appeared out of thin air a moment later, and Hermione thrust the parchment into his hands without speaking. They watched silently as he read over the letter and then looked up slowly to meet their gazes.

"He'd never be this helpful," he said immediately, not bothering to ask their opinion on who the sender was. "It's a trick."

"What if it's not?" Hermione countered.

"It's fucking _Malfoy!" _Harry said incredulously. "Why the _hell _would he waste his time trying to help the two of you?"

Under any other circumstances, Hermione would have been offended by the tone Harry used when inflecting the phrase _'two of you.' _But it was Malfoy they were speaking about, and it certainly was no secret that there was no love lost between them. However, he _had _offered them information earlier, and she pointed that out. "He helped us before!"

"He gave us information that led nowhere," Harry countered sardonically. "I've asked everyone in the entire bloody Ministry, and no one has ever even heard of the so-called Myters."

"That doesn't mean they don't exist," Ron said quietly. Both Harry and Hermione looked at him expectantly and waited for him to continue. "The people who _do _know about them would probably lie anyway, wouldn't they? Doesn't knowing about such a secret group pretty much paint the informer in a negative light straight from the start? And if they really _are _as secret as Malfoy claimed then it's no wonder no one else has heard of them. They haven't started making their big plan public or anything yet, have they? They haven't even come forward at all…"

"But it's _Malfoy," _Harry said slowly, as though trying to get this point through their thick skulls. "Malfoy would never, _never _do anything that might be construed as helpful. Not to any of us anyway."

"He's not a stupid kid anymore," Hermione said haughtily, surprising even herself with her close enough to be considered a defense of Draco Malfoy. "We don't know anything about him anymore."

"We know he's a bastard," Harry said firmly. "Leopards don't change their spots, Hermione."

"Oh, grow up, Harry," she said, rolling her eyes. "That was a million years ago, and we need to all get over it. None of us had even _spoken _to him in twenty years until last month, so who are we to say what he is or isn't?"

Harry didn't seem too pleased with being told to grow up, but he didn't say it. Instead, he played on her own emotions. "You're reaching, Hermione," he said lowly, looking her straight in the eye. "You're grasping at straws, trying to find anything… You _know _this can't be legitimate."

"You don't _know _that," she shot back, looking to Ron for backup. He was watching the exchange silently in the same sort of manner he most always did when Harry and Hermione decided to disagree. At the narrow of her eyes, though, Ron seemed to snap out of it.

"We have to at least try," he said quietly. Hermione nodded, pleased. Harry, though, let out a low growl, as though he couldn't believe they were being so stupid.

"This is a fucking set up!" he said, his eyes wide. His voice confirmed in no uncertain terms that he couldn't even entertain the notion that it could even remotely be legitimate. "If we go out there, they are going to ambush us or… or _something." _

"Who cares if they do?" Hermione asked, looking straight at him. "We can take care of ourselves."

"You're not going regardless."

It was Harry who spoke, and the resounding silence that followed his words said everything. Harry himself looked shocked, and also a little scared, that he'd actually said that out loud. He looked away from her immediately, clearly terrified that she was going to hex him, or worse. Ron's eyes went to about twice their size, and he seemed to be contemplating immediate Disapparation. Hermione, for what it was worth, did not immediately fly off the handle. This was due, in large part, to the fact that she had to replay the words in her head several times to make sure she'd heard correctly.

When she got her wits about her, she looked over at Harry and, very calmly, addressed him. "I'm sorry?"

"Look," he said carefully. "I just mean, the Healer said-"

"I know perfectly well what the Healer said. I remember it well, seeing as how I was there. Funnily enough," she went on icily, "I don't remember ever hearing that you were in charge of my well-being or that I had to ask your permission for anything."

"Hermione-" He took a step backwards as she stepped forward. Glancing away, he went on nervously, "It's dangerous…"

"You've got a lot of nerve," she said lowly. "I can't even believe that you'd stand there and try to tell me what to do. My _kids _could be there."

Harry swallowed, and she saw him glance over her shoulder at Ron. Finally, he turned his attention back to her. "You're being irrational. I know that you're worried and that you want to believe this," he held up the letter that was still in his hand. "But think about it. You know this can't be real. And it's just… it's just not worth the risk."

Hermione glared at him, and she had the strongest urge to either hex him past repair or to simply beat the shit out of him. She did neither, though, just shook her head in disbelief. "I'm glad to know you think Rose and Hugo aren't worth the risk." His eyes widened at her words, but she kept going. "It's no wonder James won't even speak to you. He probably sees your priorities for what they really are."

"Hermione," it was Ron who interrupted her, his voice so quiet that she could ignore him if she wanted to and simply pretend as if she hadn't heard.

"I gave up my entire childhood for you," she said, her eyes cutting into him. "We _both _did," she corrected, referring to Ron as well. "We did _everything _for you, I'm just glad to know how appreciated it was."

Harry didn't say anything. She'd hit a raw nerve, she knew, when she made the comment about James. It was a low blow and really an awful thing to say, but she didn't care. It was true, she'd risked her life for Harry when she was just a kid, and she couldn't believe he'd say anything wasn't worth the risk when it came to finding her children. His eyes were wet behind his glasses, and she wondered for one wild moment if he was going to cry. He just looked at her, as though he either couldn't believe what she'd said or was too shocked by it to reply.

She felt a hand on her arm and felt Ron tugging her back just a bit. He turned her around, and she stared at him wordlessly.

"Please go and lie down," he said quietly. "You're stressing yourself out."

She wanted to scream. She knew he was just concerned about the baby, but she also knew he needed to speak with Harry, she could tell by the look on his face. He was going to apologize for her. Then he and Harry were going to work out a plan to appease her.

"I'm going," she said firmly. "With or without either of you."

Without another word, she turned and left the room. As she approached her bedroom, she had just one thought in her head. Harry was mad at her, without doubt. She didn't care. Ron was on Harry's side. She didn't care. This wasn't about them, this was about her children.

And nothing and no one was going to stop her from getting to them.

--

I promised it would be quick, and it was! Please review!


	14. Chapter 14

Ron was always rather wary when it came to getting involved in arguments between Harry and Hermione

LOST

Chapter 14

Nothing belongs to me.

--

Ron was always rather wary when it came to getting involved in arguments between Harry and Hermione. He didn't like to be seen as choosing sides, as he was undoubtedly going to make someone furious. He wasn't sure, though, as Hermione stalked out of the living room, that what had just taken place could even be defined as an argument. It had been Harry trying to be rational and Hermione being extremely emotional. The two ends of the spectrum had come together in the middle and exploded, resulting in many hurtful words and leaving them both extremely upset.

He didn't blame Hermione, of course, for being that emotional. She was going through more than anyone should ever have to go through, and he of all people was able to sympathize with her. He knew how badly she wanted all of this to be over, how badly she wanted to find both Rose and Hugo and bring them home safely and soundly. He knew because he wanted the same thing. Every day that passed seemed to add to the threat that they might be lost forever, that this would _never _be over. On the other hand, he understood Harry's point of view as well. After all, the three of them didn't have the best track record where Draco Malfoy was concerned. Years of schoolyard hatred had left a rivalry and grudge that didn't seem too easy to erase. It was extremely suspicious that Malfoy would be offering them any help, and Hermione herself was the first one to point this out after they received the letter. Still, though, rationality and desperation were not two things that mixed too well.

"Look," Ron swallowed searching for the right words as he looked anxiously at his best friend, "she's just… you know, upset…"

Harry didn't reply, and Ron didn't miss the glossiness of the eyes behind his glasses. Harry hadn't been having the easiest of times in his own home, either, and Hermione had gone straight for that fact when trying to hurt him. It was a low blow, and everyone knew it. Hermione, as wonderful and kind as she generally was, could also be extremely hurtful when she was threatened. It was no secret that Harry and James weren't on the best of terms. Ron knew as well as anyone, seeing as how the first part of the major blowout had taken place in his own backyard. Everyone knew that James was upset and taking it out on his parents in the form of the silent treatment. Harry had confided that he'd done everything he knew to do to get through to him but was constantly met with locked doors and turned backs. It bothered Harry, as it would anyone, and at the moment, it was probably his touchiest subject.

Ron knew this and tried to make excuses for his wife. "She didn't mean it, she's just upset and isn't thinking right. You know she didn't mean it…"

Harry, though, blinked rapidly and then set his face in a stony stance. "Well, it's true, isn't it?" he asked roughly. "I mean, it's not like it's a secret my son hates me."

"James doesn't hate you." Ron felt like he was stating this fact for the fiftieth time. "And Hermione didn't mean any of that."

"What do you want to do about this?" Harry asked, breezing right through the subject of his own child and holding up the letter he still had clutched in his hand.

Ron frowned, his gut trying desperately to overtake his head. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "I think we have to try, don't we?"

"Fine," Harry conceded, sighing loudly. "It's your call. When do you want to go?"

Ron felt extremely awkward, sensing a change in everything around him. "I guess we shouldn't wait," he muttered. "But we need to be careful."

"Fine." Harry crossed his arms. "What about Hermione?"

Ron knew what he was asking and implying. Harry didn't want Hermione joining them. Ron, in all honesty, didn't either. They both knew what the Healer had said in her regards, and though Harry had already pointed this out to her, they both knew what her reaction would be if they reiterated it.

Swallowing, Ron twisted his hands in front of him. "She's never going to let us go without her."

Harry, to Ron's surprise, did not argue, simply shrugged and looked away. Ron, not knowing what else to do, hesitated just a second before quietly heading back toward the bedroom. Harry did not follow.

He found Hermione coming out of their bathroom. She glared at him and, before he had a chance to approach her, said, "Don't you dare even _think _about telling me what to do."

Acutely aware that she had one hand in her pocket and, most likely, on her wand, he acted quickly. "Let's go," he said simply.

Hermione stared at him, obviously thrown off by his reply. It was clear that she was expecting a fight, and the fact that she wasn't getting one seemed to stop her.

"Go where?" she asked carefully.

"To find Rose and Hugo. To Bethnal Green or wherever."

Hermione's face changed almost instantly, and she stared at him in wonderment for only a second before smiling widely and throwing herself into his arms. "Oh, thank you!" she cried, and he caught her before she knocked him over. "I thought you were going to try to stop me!"

"Hermione, promise you'll be careful," he said seriously, leaning back a bit and looking her in the eye. "It's really important."

"Ron, I can take care of myself."

"I know you can," he said honestly. "But I'm nervous… about all of this… and I just want to know you'll be okay."

"I'll be fine," she promised, and he believed her. A second later, she lowered her eyes and her voice. "Is Harry going, too?"

Ron nodded, expecting another round to the fight. To his surprise, though, she looked regretful.

"Is he really upset?"

Ron didn't know what to say or how to answer the question. "I think he's just worried," he said carefully.

"I should apologize, shouldn't I?"

Truthfully, he thought she should. Knowing her, though, he was unsure whether this was the correct answer. He didn't want her to turn against or get mad at him. This wasn't his fight after all.

He was lucky that she didn't seem to be expecting an answer. She smiled gently at him and then turned around to head back to the sitting room. Not knowing what else to do, Ron followed silently. He watched from the doorway as Hermione walked straight over to where Harry was still standing by the fireplace.

"I shouldn't have said those things," she said sincerely. "It was really rude, and I'm sorry."

It was a very real and honest apology, and Harry seemed to recognize that. He looked at her for a long moment and then nodded.

"I never meant that Rose and Hugo weren't worth it," he said seriously. "That came out wrong."

Ron had understood that from the beginning and he was sure Hermione had as well. However, she'd been so upset that it had hit her the wrong way. Now, though, she seemed to accept that Harry hadn't been belittling their children's worth.

"I'd do anything for them," he said honestly, looking straight at her. "You know that, right?"

Hermione nodded.

"I'm just worried because…" he frowned, "because I don't trust Malfoy."

Ron was right there with him on that, but he also knew that there was no way they could just ignore the first real _solid _lead they'd got. Even if it meant risking everything. They all knew what they had to do.

"How're we going to get there?" It was Harry who spoke again, apparently choosing not to dwell on his worries and focus instead on the plans. "If they're really watching, we can't Apparate, can we? That'd tip them off straight away."

Hermione seemed to be, as usual, three steps ahead of them. She was rummaging through a junk drawer in the desk. Ron had no idea what she was looking for, but he didn't ask. He knew from plenty of experience that she had a plan and knew exactly what she was looking for. He and Harry watched patiently until she finally turned around with what appeared to be a brochure in her hand.

"The letter said it's close to the tube station, right?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Then what if we just take the Underground all the way there? They surely won't be expecting us to do that. And we'd only have to connect once." Ron realized that she must be studying some sort of map that laid out the Muggle Underground routes. "We can go straight from the Hampstead station down to Bank and then take the Central line straight to Bethnal Green."

Everything she said flew straight over Ron's head. He didn't understand a word of it, but after so many years, he was quite used to being lost when she spoke. He nodded, as he always did when she was talking above his intellectual level, in unknown agreement, knowing all too well that asking for an explanation was simply not worth it.

Harry had been around long enough to know to do the same.

--

Hermione was not entirely familiar with East London and had next to no knowledge whatsoever of the Bethnal Green area. She had passed through it a few times but had spent no real time there. It was too close to Shoreditch, and Shoreditch, as her mother had taught her long ago, was simply not a place that proper women frequented.

By the time they arrived at the station, Ron looked more than a little weary from traveling. He'd been on the Underground a few times, though admittedly quite rarely, but Hermione realized too late that they were attempting to travel right in the midst of rush hour. He was a bit claustrophobic anyway, and to be packed into a compartment with hundreds of other people was certainly not the way to calm his nerves. Not to mention, of course, that he made no secret of doubting all types of Muggle transport.

"It just doesn't seem safe," he'd fretted as they took the escalator down to their first train. "Trains aren't meant to go underground. Nothing's meant to go underground except rats."

It didn't help that they'd all spotted a native London tube rat in the corner at that exact moment.

None of them had managed to grab a seat during the entire journey, so they were all a bit tired by the time they arrived at their final stop, though Ron, of course, looked the worst- pale and more than a bit put out. As they ascended into "fresh" air, Hermione had to hold her breath. Being pregnant gave her a super-sensitive sense of smell, and the smell of curry and fried fish that assaulted her was nearly enough to make her vomit right there on the street. Bethnal Green, she found, was a far cry from the posh and quiet area of Hampstead where she made her home. She realized all at once exactly _why _she stayed away from East London. Of course, she also realized that this made her sound like an elitist snob, so she pushed the thought from her head and pretended to forget it.

"You okay?"

She looked over at Harry who had touched her arm and posed the question quietly. She nodded, forcing herself to breath through her mouth. "Just the smell," she said simply, shrugging as if it was no big deal. "I'm fine really." She wasn't going to give either of them any reason to believe that she needed to sit this one out.

Harry looked concerned, but he did not argue.

"Any ideas on where we're supposed to go next?" Ron asked, stepping carefully out of the way as a woman with four children bustled past him quickly as they hurried toward the entrance of the tube station.

Hermione hated to admit it, but she had none. This whole area was completely unfamiliar to her, and all she had to go on were the instructions in the letters. "Well, it said a side street. Perhaps we should split up?"

"_No."_

The answer came simultaneously from both Harry and Ron, and she looked from one to the other and took note of the way their eyes narrowed almost identically. Deciding an argument simply wasn't worth it, she backed down easily for once.

"Fine," she said, holding up her hands to halt their over-protective assault. "Just a suggestion…"

"I say we just start here and work our way out," Ron said. "Just look for any old abandoned book shops, I guess."

No one had any better ideas, so they did just that. They walked up one street and down the next, exhausting themselves to no avail. They couldn't find anything at all on the side streets except for houses and flats. All the businesses seemed to be on the main road, and there were no book shops of any kind anywhere in sight. Growing frustrated beyond belief, Hermione finally just stopped and sat down on a stone wall.

"This isn't working," she said heatedly.

"Then maybe we should just rest for a minute," Ron suggested gently. Hermione could tell he was trying his hardest not to order her to sit down and stay put. She wouldn't have even had the energy to fight him if he had. It was _hot. _The sun was glaring down on them, and for once, there wasn't even a rain cloud in the sky to shield it. She was sweating, and her feet were killing her. She hadn't mentioned it to anyone, but her clothes were beginning to get uncomfortable as well, and the slightly too-tight waistband of her trousers was cutting into her in a rather painful way.

"Look, why don't you two go back up to one of those cafes and take a break? I'll keep looking and come find you if I see anything." Harry was looking more at Ron than at her, and she could tell that they were doing the thing where they talked, usually about her, without saying anything. It was something that usually infuriated her, but at the moment, she was much more eager to simply take Harry's suggestion.

"Promise you'll let us know right away," she said, standing up with no argument whatsoever.

Harry and Ron both seemed a little surprised at her readiness to take a break, and Harry nodded quickly. "I promise."

Hermione believed him, and she took Ron's hand and let him lead her back up to the main street. There were no sit downs very close by, so they settled on a McDonald's that was tucked in between two vegetable shops. It was crowded, but there were plenty of tables, as most of the people in line seemed to be getting takeaway. Hermione took a booth and waited patiently while Ron stood in line and finally joined her with drinks. She took the fizzy drink and sipped at it, noting for the countless time that she didn't really care for Muggle soft drinks anymore.

Ron, who seemed oblivious to tasting anything, drank the beverage greedily and then leaned back against the plastic cushions of the bench. "Do you really think we're going to find something?"

It wasn't an attack question or remotely sarcastic. She could tell by his tone that he was genuinely curious as to whether she thought they stood a chance in hell by following this lead. The truth was, she had no idea, and she told him.

"I don't know. I just think that we have to try, you know?" She looked up at him, and he nodded. His eyes looked heavy, and she knew he was tired. "You need some sleep," she observed.

He didn't argue, just ran a hand through his hair, which was slightly damp from sweat and stood up with the movement. "I just hope we find them."

Hermione did, too. More than anything. "Maybe when we go home tonight, we'll have them with us," she said hopefully.

Ron smiled, and she saw a glimmer of hope behind his tired blue eyes. "I hope so. Are you feeling better?"

She nodded but twisted around a bit uncomfortably. "My jeans are getting tight," she admitted, frowning as they seemed to get even tighter with her words.

He smiled again and slid closer to her, placing one of his hands against her stomach. "I wonder if it's a boy or a girl."

It was the first time they'd discussed it, usually choosing instead to tiptoe around the subject of the pregnancy and avoid the topic altogether if possible. It seemed appropriate, though, to bring it up now. After all, they had their first glimpse of hope in a long while.

"I don't know," she shrugged, turning her head to look at him. "What do you want it to be?"

He wrinkled his nose in thought, and she watched him carefully. "Doesn't matter," he finally said. "I'm claiming no preference at all."

She laughed and rolled her eyes. She knew what he was doing. Before they'd ever had children, they'd decided that they wanted two- a boy and a girl. When she'd gotten pregnant the first time, Ron had been adamant about wanting a boy. He was positive he was having a son. He claimed to know this by citing everything from tarot cards to tea leaves and everything in between that he knew she hated. When he'd been wrong, he had blamed Trelawney for being tosh as a teacher.

Of course, it had taken all of three minutes for him to fall hopelessly head over heels in love with Rose, and by the time Hermione was pregnant again, he went back on his original plan of one boy and one girl and hoped for a second daughter. He convinced himself again that he was, in fact, going to get his wish, but he was again sadly mistaken.

Now he was claiming no preference. It was not a coincidence.

"I don't care, either," she said honestly. "Maybe it'll be twins."

Ron went a little pale and elbowed her gently when she laughed at the look on his face. "Don't even joke about that," he said seriously.

"Well," she said knowingly, "it is a little strange that there's been no sets of twins born in the entire family this generation."

"Yeah, probably because god realized his mistake with Fred and George."

Hermione laughed again, and he joined her. It felt good to joke, to let some of the tension that had constantly been building for the past weeks out. The entire situation, the laughter and the guessing about the baby, took her back to a time when everything seemed much simpler. Not that they'd ever _really _known simple. Their lives had been marked with confusion and hardship straight from the start, but there was a time, in the first few years following the war, where they'd been able to relax. The only worries they'd had then had been about things as simple as what to eat for dinner. Their careers had been a lot less demanding and carried much less responsibility. There were no children to worry about or anything of that sort. They'd had a few short years of simplicity, and as much as she loved her life now, it was nice to think back on that time.

"I'm not looking forward to naming the midget," Ron said seriously, resting his chin in his hand. "It was hard enough figuring out for the first two."

That was certainly true.

They'd found it extremely difficult to come to an agreement on the names. It had been one rather huge headache both times they'd gone through it. It wasn't her fault, though, that Ron had horrid taste when it came to things like Quidditch teams and baby names.

They spent the next little while just relaxing and enjoying each other's company. Hermione was feeling very well rested by the time Harry showed up at the restaurant.

"Finally," he muttered, sidling over to join them. "I've looked in every restaurant around here."

"Did you find anything?" Ron asked, scooting over to allow him room to squeeze into the booth with them.

"Yeah, actually," he nodded. "I found a place that looks like it used to be a book shop, but I'm not positive."

"Couldn't you tell if it was a pub?" Hermione asked, offering him the rest of her barely touched drink.

"Well," he swallowed the drink and then looked up at them, "I think it is. There're a lot of wards around it for some reason, so I guess it's probably hiding something magical at least."

"You couldn't get past the wards?"

"I didn't want to bring too much attention to myself," he said obviously. "I was going to wait for you two before trying to get in."

Hermione stood up first, sliding out of the booth and turning back to the others. "Let's go then."

Ron followed her, and Harry reluctantly got up as well, sucking down the last of the drink before pitching the cup into the bin. She could tell he was tired, and she felt a little bad for not even offering to let him rest up for a second. She was just too anxious, though. She was well-aware that they could possibly, and even probably, be walking straight into a dangerous setup, but the tiny glimmer of hope that she might find her children outweighed everything else.

"We need a plan," Ron said, holding the door open for the other two as they stepped back onto the semi-crowded street. "I mean, what are we going to do after we get in?"

"We can't make a plan if we don't even know what we're walking into," Hermione said logically, following Harry as he led them in the direction of the book shop. "We just need to go in and keep alert."

"And keep an eye on each other," Harry said, glancing back.

They were good at that. If nothing else, they at least made a good team when it came to heading into the unknown. Of course, Hermione was a little out of practice, and she was reminded of this when they arrived at the end of a short road and stood facing what did, in fact, appear to be an abandoned book shop.

"Once we get in, you stay between us, Hermione," Harry said, looking over her head at Ron who nodded his agreement.

Hermione wanted to be offended, but she found she couldn't be. It had been a long time since she'd gone into anything like this, and both Ron and Harry did it for a living. A sudden sense of excitement flooded her, and she felt, not for the first time that day, as though she'd gone back in time and was several years younger. This was potentially the most important mission of her life, and she was ready to face it head on. She didn't even feel an ounce of doubt as they stood facing the empty display window.

The revealing spell gave them pretty much every bit of information they needed in order to get in. Hermione was surprised actually that it was that easy. If she hadn't been so excited, she might have been a little suspicious. Ron and Harry, it seemed, _were _suspicious, and they eyed each other wordlessly before apparently deciding that it would be alright to risk it.

It seemed as if all they had to do was cross the street and walk straight through the door of the book shop. It was that easy.

"Please be careful." Hermione turned her head as Ron whispered urgently in her ear. He gave her a pleading look, and she felt a familiar rush of love fill her. She nodded and gave him a quick encouraging smile as she reached down to squeeze his hand.

He didn't let go of her hand as he led them across the street. Harry stayed behind her, and she knew that they were implementing their plan of keeping her between them as much as possible. As they got to the door, though, Hermione found the nerves that had recently abandoned her rushing back. With one hand on her wand and one clutching Ron's tightly, she glanced over her shoulder at Harry who raised his eyebrows at her and then gave her a gentle sort of hopeful smile that made her feel a little better.

She closed her eyes unconsciously as she heard the door sweep open, but she opened them again at the noise that flooded her ears. From the outside, the place seemed completely abandoned, but inside, there seemed to be a world of activity. Music was playing and several pub patrons were seated at the bar and the surrounding tables enjoying their drinks, talking and laughing loudly. She was surprised that no one seemed to notice them as they entered, but they were able to slip in with very little notice. She kept her head down, trying to draw as little attention as possible. It wasn't until Ron stopped short and she ran straight into his back that she looked up fully.

The bar was full, but it wasn't the witches and wizards lining the stools that drew her attention. It was, instead, the person behind the bar. A tall woman with sweeping black hair was laughing with one of her customers. She was dressed rather too nicely for a bar maiden, but Hermione didn't bother analyzing this fact. Instead, she gasped, her mouth actually falling open.

Twenty years could change a person a lot, and while the woman she was staring at was certainly a bit more attractive than she'd been all those years ago dressed in her Slytherin robes and sneering at them… there were some things that years wouldn't change.

And Hermione would recognize that pug nose a million miles away.

--

Oh, how quickly we approach the end! Please review!


	15. Chapter 15

Pansy Parkinson had learned quite a bit in her thirty-eight years

LOST

Chapter 15

Everything belongs to JK Rowling.

--

Pansy Parkinson had learned quite a bit in her thirty-eight years.

As a very small child, she'd learned that her father expected her to be seen and not heard. When she'd made the mistake of speaking up too much for his liking, she'd learned what it felt like to have a handprint across her cheek for days.

As she got a little older, she'd learned that it was possible to hate her own parents. She'd also learned that the more she hated someone, the harder she'd work to impress them. Even if she didn't want to.

As a teenager, she'd learned many things. She'd learned what it felt like to fall in love and have her heart broken over _and over _by the most over-privileged, and coincidentally, unhappiest person she'd ever met in her life. She learned that even if she gave a boy _everything _in the world that there was still no guarantee he would sit with her at breakfast the next morning. She'd learned that all the nonsense about bloodlines determining worth and intelligence was all a bunch of bollocks because it didn't matter how hard she studied, there would always be some jumped up Mudblood beating her at every test. She'd learned that some people were lucky enough to have friends who would die for them, and she'd learned, sadly, that she was not one of those people.

Her greatest lessons came after school, though- after she left Hogwarts and everything about it behind.

She was, she believed, the first person in her year to be married, and she became Mrs. Tomas Vanderguard at the tender age of nineteen. She met Tomas a week after the so-called "Battle of Hogwarts," and they'd become engaged a mere two months later. Within a year, they were married and honeymooning in the South of France. Tomas was older than she was, thirty-one actually at the time of their marriage. He was wealthy, an investor who worked primarily for some of the oldest and richest Wizarding families in Britain. He spoiled her senseless, buying her clothes and jewelry and everything else that she could imagine. He was positively lovely to her. It was like a fairytale come true.

At first.

It didn't take a year for their relationship to start dwindling. He seemed to grow somewhat exasperated with her, often calling her childish and coddled. He even likened her a few times to a spoiled brat. He still bought her plenty and gave her everything she wanted, but she soon learned that no amount of money in the world could make someone truly happy. She'd often wondered, as a stupid little girl infatuated with Draco Malfoy, how it was possible to have _that _much money and still be that miserable. She hadn't been able to fathom it at the time, had no idea how he could be _so _moody and _so _dreadful and _so _full of brooding when he had the ability to have anything in the world just by asking his father for it.

She understood soon enough.

It didn't matter how many diamond necklaces she had or how many designer gowns she owned... Fighting with her husband day in and day out and sitting back while he called her every imaginable name in the book and flaunted other women right in front of her face did not make it worth it. She grew weary of the relationship, especially when she got to the point where she knew he was cheating on her. She'd suspected for a long time, but a time came when she absolutely could not deny it any longer.

And when she confronted him with it, he hit her so hard that the handprint lasted even longer than any of her father's ever had.

Thus began the second turn of their relationship. He was violent, more violent than she could have ever imagined when they'd been courting, back when he'd been sweet and gentle and chivalrous. No, she found out that he was anything but sweet and gentle as he started hitting her for any and everything. When she threatened to leave, he threatened her family. When she demanded he stop sleeping with other women, he shattered her jawbone so horribly that it had to be completely regrown.

And then she killed him.

She poisoned him to be exact- Muggle arsenic. The day he died was both the best and the worst day of her life. It was the best because it empowered her and set her free. It was the worst because it completely shattered her fairytale dream. In fairytales, women did not kill their husbands. She was living in a very cold and cruel world and she finally woke up to it. However, she realized that she had the strength to do _anything. _She didn't have to be anyone's wife or anyone's punching bag or anyone's slave. She was her own person, and she decided the moment he was lowered into the ground that she was going to spend not one more moment of her life living for anything or anyone but herself.

It was lucky that no one suspected a bit of foul play in her husband's death, and Pansy was pleased to inherit every bit of everything that he owned, including his estate and all of his money. She was twenty-four years old, set for life, and free to do anything in the world that she pleased.

And so she descended into the world she should have entered at eighteen- the one of sex and alcohol and men and _freedom. _And it was fan-fucking-tastic. She was young, attractive, and rich. There was simply nothing else in the world that she needed to be at that time. She quickly realized that there was a lot more to life than staying at home and keeping house for a husband. She vowed that she would never again be a wife.

And then she met Draco Malfoy again.

Six years had passed since they'd last seen each other. She'd read in the paper that he was engaged to Daphne Greengrass' little sister Astoria, and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't felt a bit of bitterness. Growing up, she'd been infatuated with him, had fallen in and out of teenage love each of the several times he broke her heart. He'd been the first, and only, person she'd ever been with before her husband, and seeing him again after all those years brought a million emotions flooding back to her quickly.

He was at a pub she'd taken to frequenting, and she was, quite literally, shocked to see him there. It wasn't the type of place that the Malfoys usually associated with themselves. It wasn't downright seedy, but it wasn't a posh cocktail bar with scantily clad waitresses, either. She noticed him almost immediately, leaning against the bar deep in conversation with the man beside him. To this day, Pansy wasn't sure where the courage to approach him came from, but she was still reveling in all her youth and wealth and freedom that she strolled right up to him and sat down on the stool beside him.

He'd been shocked to see her, too, of course, and they chatted awkwardly for a bit, making small talk and pretending to catch up on the last six years. He was sorry, he claimed, to have heard about her husband. It must have come as a great shock and she must be terribly upset. She'd been honest enough with her answer and had simply shrugged and said no, she wasn't _that _upset. Congratulations, she told him, on his engagement. She couldn't picture Astoria as anything but an awkward little girl, but, of course, she was sure she'd grown up gorgeously. She was, he claimed, beautiful and charming.

And on they went.

He ended up in her bed that night.

She'd casually invited him back to her house that night, stating that it was great catching up and if he was interested, they could finish the chat over a cup of coffee. Of course, they'd scarcely stepped through the fireplace and into her living room before they were attacking each other. Pansy was not sure how, or rather _why, _it even happened. They were both a bit pissed, though neither of them too far gone. She should never have let him touch her. She should never have even _spoken _to him. She definitely should _never _have let him shove her down on the sofa and pull her knickers off so quickly that they got hung on her stiletto heel.

But… she did. And she was a lost cause straight from the start.

She'd never been able to resist him. He'd been her first kiss, her first boyfriend, her first fuck, and her first heartbreak. She lost her virginity to him when she was barely fifteen years old, and he ignored her for two straight weeks after. The second he showed a bit of interest, though, she'd fallen right back into his trap. And she'd let it carry on like that forever up until they left school three years later. Draco would randomly decide he wanted her, he'd fuck her, then ignore her… And so the cycle carried on.

That night in her dead husband's house, though, she felt something ridiculously different, though. When they'd known each other before, they'd both been rather inexperienced teenagers. Now, though, they were both fully grown and, apparently, fully experienced. She couldn't count the number of men she'd slept with after her husband, but she was absolutely positive about one thing at least. _No one _had ever made her feel like _that _before.

They carried on their affair like that for over a year. She all but stopped sleeping with other people, and Draco continuously pushed his wedding further and further back, making up excuse after excuse. He would sneak over to her house regularly, and they'd get lost in each other for a couple of blissful hours until he had to go back to living his other life. It irritated her that he hadn't broken up with Astoria. The mere fact that he was postponing their wedding did little to calm her fears that it was his fiancé who he truly wanted. So Pansy begged. She actually begged him to call it off with Astoria for good. It didn't matter if his parents were angry with him for running the plan, she'd urged. They would get over it, and if they didn't… well, she didn't speak to her parents and she was perfectly happy. Draco, of course, had always been terrified of his father and going against any sort of plans that his father expected to be followed.

But he finally promised he'd do it. He was going to call his wedding off completely and explain to Astoria that he wanted someone else. He was going to stand up to his parents and let them know that he was making his own decisions for once in his life.

Pansy planned the night perfectly. He was going to come to her, of course, after breaking up with his fiancé, and it was going to be the first night of the rest of their lives. She cooked him a spectacular meal and put on a brand new dress. She looked fabulous, felt fabulous, and couldn't wait for him to arrive. When he did, she jumped into his arms immediately.

Finally! They were finally able to be together.

And then…

_Astoria's pregnant._

She remembered the tone of his voice as he spoke the words as clearly as she remembered anything in her life- the lifeless, dejected tone. Her world crumbled at that point. Everything was over. Draco was married by the end of the month- to another woman. By winter's end, he had a son.

And Pansy never spoke to him again.

Draco Malfoy's wedding would mark a very important place in the book of her life. It marked the end of her faith in humanity. It marked the end of her childish happiness. It marked the end of her life as a victim.

And it marked the start of her intelligence.

She found herself once again free to do whatever she pleased, and she found herself taking care of the most pertinent business first. She sold her house and moved to the city. She immersed herself in finding a purpose, making herself into _something _that didn't involve relying on a man for her happiness.

But then she met Monroe.

Monroe was different from the other men she'd known. He didn't try to force her into bed the moment he met her. Instead, he commented continuously on how smart she was and how she should put her mind to good use. No, not the Ministry or St. Mungo's. Those were the kinds of jobs that basked on uniformity and blandness. She should put her mind to something that could do _real _good.

Monroe had a lot of new ideas about the state of their society and the reasons behind different things. He was terribly smart, and he actually made her feel smart as well. She began understanding his views and even trusting them. It wasn't long before she began sharing them as well. He was right about so many things, about class structure and the favoritism that was shown toward certain members of their community both in the media and the justice system. Soon she began to despise all of the idiots of the world who sat back and allowed themselves to be taken advantage of. Those too weak to stand up for their beliefs did not deserve to have them.

Monroe owned a small pub and lived in a built-in flat behind it. She moved in with him, abandoning all of the wealth and material items that she'd grown accustomed to over the past several years. Though they shared a bed and everything else, Monroe was completely against the idea of marriage, and she agreed with him wholeheartedly. He knew she was a widow, and she vowed to never make the same mistake again. With complete confidence in him, she even confessed her deepest secret- something she'd never told anyone before, not even Draco. She told him exactly how Tomas had died, and instead of being horrified by her statement, he simply told her it was very courageous thing to do and that he was proud of her.

Monroe had his own underground political affiliations, most notably the Myters. Pansy wasn't privy to much of their workings for many years, but as time passed, she was let in on more and more, and eventually she learned all about them and everything they stood for. Or rather against. They stood against everything it seemed, and they had plans to put themselves into power and take over everything. Monroe was held in very high esteems by the party and was, therefore, able to make many important decisions. Pansy, incidentally, was admired and obeyed as well. She realized quickly that she loved power more than she ever loved money.

The idea for their greatest move was actually her own idea. It was going to put their names in the paper and make everyone acknowledge their power. They were going to start out as strongly as anyone ever had, and she was going to make damn well sure of it.

The idea hit her in December. She was sitting at the bar one morning reading _The Daily Prophet _when she happened upon a short article in the society pages that highlighted Harry Potter's Christmas celebration. She'd almost pitched it in the bin on principle, but she stopped herself. There was a picture of the prat and his stupid wife, smiling politely for the photographer. She could see the fakeness behind their eyes, though, and knew that they cared little to nothing about posing for a picture. They probably both thought themselves far too important to be bothered with such menial activities; after all, they were _terribly _busy no doubt. Pansy rolled her eyes and looked at the other people in the picture. Their little brats- three of them. Apparently his wife was a little better at keeping her legs closed than her mother had been, but it hardly mattered. Three over-indulged, spoiled, whiney, _Potter _brats was too many. There were two boys, one nearly identical to his father, while the other simply spewed cockiness and superiority even through a newspaper photograph. The little girl looked like she was probably doted upon by every single person she'd ever met in her entire life, and Pansy had little doubt that she wasn't. People still worshipped Potter and kissed the ground beneath his feet, much to Pansy's own disgust, as she had always found him rather revolting. Leave it to Saint Potter, she'd thought as she read the caption, to name his kids after a few of the people who had died for him.

The idea was nearly too flawless. They could take one of the children and force the world to see that perfection was simply not a character trait that _anyone _possessed, not even their precious Harry Potter. There would undoubtedly be a ridiculous media circus, and Pansy could stand back and watch as he publicly lost his mind and went to any sort of means to find his kid; it wouldn't matter if it was legal, illegal, or completely unheard of.

Still, though, something nagged at her. Why should they go for the obvious when they could go for something nearly as good and cause even more drama? Somehow, Potter and all his friends had ended up with all their happily ever afters and were living in some sort of dream world where they all, ridiculously, were still best friends. In fact, they were actually one big happy family. Pansy knew, of course, that Weasley had ended up with Granger and that they had their own silly little fairytale life going on as well. It disgusted her. She wasn't positive, but she was almost sure that she hated Hermione Granger more than she hated any of the other ones, including Harry Potter, and really, that was saying something. She'd always been irritated by the girl, always thought she was a swotty bitch who was perched too high on the horse for her own good. So the fact that she had her whole beautiful little family bit and the important career and was admired by people all over the place for spending all her time with pointless efforts really, _really _infuriated Pansy.

And so that's when she'd changed the plan.

And so Rose Weasley became her target. It took careful planning, but the actual execution of the plan went more smoothly than she could have hoped for. She had expected, during her weeks of preparation, to despise the child. She could scarcely think of a worse mix than Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, so she was very positive that their brat would be easy to hate. She was going to suck it up, though, and use every bit of kindness she had in her to turn the little bitch against her parents, though. This, she knew, would only make it worse for her old school enemies. Their perfect little life would be destroyed from the inside out, and they'd find themselves ripped apart and, hopefully, disjointed even from each other. It was a political issue, of course, but she couldn't help but gain a bit of personal revenge from it, either.

Of course, she hadn't counted on actually _enjoying _the child…

The first couple of weeks had been easy. Rose was, as she expected, a rotten little brat who was easy to hate. When she started opening up, though, and actually speaking, Pansy had been horrified to realize that she was actually rather amazing. She was smart beyond reason, and she spoke of things well beyond her young years. She was also, Pansy realized, suffering from what seemed to be very deeply rooted hurt over what she obviously viewed as her parents' neglect. She was feisty, too, quick to talk back and argue. Pansy enjoyed that, felt that it set her very far apart from her mother who had always clammed up in the face of opposition of authority. Rose was who Pansy herself had wanted to be as a child but had never accomplished. And as she grew closer and closer to the child, she soon began feeling guilty.

When Monroe and two of his mates had shown up one night with another red-headed child, Pansy had almost lost it. Taking two was never part of the plan, and she wasn't easily calmed by their claim that he ran away willingly. She insisted without argument that he be allowed to stay with his sister. She could tell that the others didn't necessarily agree, but they knew better than to defy her or question her. She was quickly beginning to doubt the entire plan and absolutely had a fit if anyone even _spoke _of harming the children. They were not going to touch them, and if Pansy herself had to sneak them out and take them home, she wasn't going to let them be hurt. She grew a little worried, though, as she realized that Monroe and some of the others began suspecting her of going back on the original plan, and when Gregory Goyle was murdered, she knew that she was being served with a warning. He, a low-ranking member, had almost sold them out but had been threatened into oblivion to keep quiet. It had worked, but apparently they still saw reason to kill him.

And Pansy knew without a doubt that she'd be next.

And so she did nothing.

She went about her normal daily activities as though she hadn't a care in the world. She took care of the bar, spent time with the children, prepared everyone meals… and simply pretended to be fine. All the while, though, she felt herself dying inside.

Guilt was going to overtake her. Undoubtedly. And when it did, she knew she would be dead.

--

Rose was still having issues coming to grips with the fact that her little brother was with her. It had been nearly a week since he'd arrived, and she still couldn't believe it. She still had no idea how he'd gotten there, but, of course, she did not know exactly how she herself had gotten there, either.

They were getting along for the most part. He was scared and was crying a lot, but Rose was doing her best to be a good big sister for once and take care of him. She let him sleep beside her and hugged him if he started getting particularly frightened. She couldn't remember ever worrying about him so much in her entire life. It was strange, but it was also very nice in a way.

CC was taking care of them as well. She was feeding them and giving them extra pillows and promising them in hushed whispers that things would be alright. Rose was beginning to suspect that maybe CC was worried about something, too, as she was being rather different and seemed a bit jumpy.

Hugo still said he wanted to go home and that he hated it there, but Rose constantly tried to tell him that they were fine and that CC was a good woman who wasn't going to hurt them. She tried to convey to him some of the same things she'd discovered in her time away from home. She assured him that their parents were probably better off without them, as they now had a lot more time to focus on their careers. She informed him, too, of their mother's pregnancy. She was surprised to find out that he knew nothing of the subject but not very surprised to learn that he thought it was an all around awful idea.

Hugo, to be as dense as he normally was, _had _actually made a rather smart move in swiping her wand from her bedroom before he took off. If she'd had wand weeks ago, she'd probably be in a much different situation. The problem, of course, was that there was very little she could do short of casting a full body binding curse at CC, something she had absolutely no desire to do. There was no exit to the room, the only way in or out was Apparition. And Rose may have been unusually bright for a twelve year old, but she certainly did not know how to Apparate. She did, however, keep the wand hidden. It wasn't that she didn't trust CC because she actually did, but she decided that she could never be _too _careful.

Hugo told her over and over again that their parents were devastated over her disappearance and had been looking nonstop. He told her that Uncle Harry had the entire department working on finding her. He told her that Al was a complete mess. He told her that everyone in their entire family missed her and was looking for her. But still. She didn't know what to believe. CC had helped her learn so much that she found it difficult to believe that anyone in her family was _too _terribly upset- minus Al, of course, who she believed actually probably _was _that upset. It hurt her that her dad and Uncle Harry could hunt people down for a living and track down Dark Wizards and other such criminals every single day of their lives but that they couldn't track her down.

She was so confused. She didn't know _what _to believe anymore.

--

Rose was different.

She was a totally different person from the girl he'd known his whole life. Hugo realized this more and more each day as he spent all of his time with her. She'd always been bossy and mean and teased him for no reasons at all. Now, though, she was gentle and rather kind actually, and she didn't make fun of him for anything. It was so strange.

He also noticed how sad she was all the time. He knew that she claimed that she didn't care if people were concerned with her or not, but he could tell it was a lie. Every time she made a comment about their mum and dad not caring or being happy that she was gone, her eyes would fall and he could see the sadness behind them. It made him feel bad that there was nothing he could do to change it. He tried to tell her all the time that none of that was true and that their parents were worried sick, but she seemed to have made up her mind.

She was convinced that they were all better off without her.

And then, of course, there was the revelation that their mum was pregnant. It was strange that she knew about that sooner than he did, but she'd told him she read it in the paper. The news of it must have broken after he'd already gone, though he was more than a little upset that his parents hadn't chosen to tell him personally, seeing as he was their son and it _was _sort of a big development…

He wasn't quite sure how he felt about the situation anyway. Granting that he actually escaped this whole ordeal alive, he would presumably return home to his parents and his normal life. What would it be like adding a baby into the equation? Hugo was one of the youngest kids in the family, and the only baby he even remembered was Roxanne. Of course, he'd only been four himself when she'd been born, so he really had no concept of what it had been like. He wasn't positive that he wanted to share his parents with yet _another _sibling, either. Rose was right in that they were both very busy and spent a lot of time working. However, unlike Rose, Hugo didn't really resent them for that; he understood instead that they were working so hard because it was important. It was important for he and Rose as their children, as they wouldn't have nearly as much if their parents worked other jobs, and it was important for the world as a whole. Both his mum and his dad had very _important _jobs, and they worked really hard to make the world a better place. Still, though, it was a bit frustrating at times when he sometimes didn't see his dad for three days straight or when his mum forgot to cook dinner because she was so caught up in paperwork and proposals.

They had their flaws surely, but he missed them terribly and wished more and more every day that he never left. He wanted to go home so badly that he couldn't stand it. Furthermore, he couldn't understand why Rose seemed completely content with staying. Okay, actually she _did _seem like maybe she was swaying slightly. Sometimes at night, when he'd talk about going home, she'd talk fondly of missing their dad's treacle or their mum's bedtime stories. But he just couldn't seem to make her believe that they needed to be proactive about escaping. He was beginning to lose hope. The truth was that no one _had _found Rose, even as hard as they'd been trying.

And he was beginning to realize that if they couldn't find his sister, they couldn't find him.

--

Hermione had never felt more furious as she stared at woman in front of her.

Pansy Parkinson. _Really? _Pansy Parkinson? She was supposed to believe that _that _stupid cow was capable of all this? She wasn't sure she could force herself to believe that. It didn't make her any less furious, though.

She was surprised to find herself being dragged backwards, and she jerked herself out of her daze to see that it was Harry who had grabbed her and was pushing her into a tiny booth. She was in such shock that she couldn't fight him, and she watched wordlessly as he shoved Ron in beside her and then finally squeezed in with them. He grabbed a couple of bar menus and opened them up on the table before ducking his head behind them and leaning in to whisper hurriedly to them.

"_What the fuck is that?!"_

It was Hermione's sentiment exactly, and Ron's mind didn't seem to be too far off, either. He looked as completely dazed as she felt.

"Maybe we should get out of here and then come up with some kind of plan," Harry went on, glancing over his shoulder nervously. "There're a lot of people here."

"_No!" _Hermione said immediately. "Rose and Hugo are here, I _know _it." She didn't know _how _she knew it, but she could feel it somewhere deep inside her. She didn't know if it was so-called mother's intuition or what, but the second she'd stepped foot into this pub, she'd felt an immediate connection to what she knew, inexplicably, was her children.

"Well, what are we going to do?" Harry demanded, a bit hysterically actually. "This place is packed full of people, we can't very well go and ambush the woman behind the bar, can we? We'd be overpowered immediately!"

"Then we Apparate to the back," Hermione replied without hesitation. She wasn't sure where the idea had come from, but she didn't feel the slightest bit of worry about it. "We Apparate to the back, and as soon as Pansy comes back there, we'll surround her."

"And do what?" Harry shook his head. "D'you think she's just going to say, _'Oh, hi! Let me go get your kids, they've been waiting for you!' _Trust me, she's _not _going to say that."

"I'm not scared of Pansy Parkinson," Hermione said furiously. "And at this point, I'm not scared of anyone else who might be around, either. I'm not leaving here without my children!"

"Hermione, shh!" Ron hissed. It was the first time he'd spoken since they sat down. She glared at him, but he shook his head quietly. "I'm not leaving, either," he assured her quickly. "But we've got to keep our voices down. We can't draw any atten-"

"So what're we drinking tonight?"

Ron was cut off by the sound of a familiar voice. All three of them froze, their heads still ducked behind the menus. Hermione felt her heart start to speed up, and she looked from Ron to Harry and saw that both of them seemed as nervous as she was.

When the barmaid didn't get a response, she cleared her throat. "Do you need a few minutes?" she asked awkwardly. She was met again with a silent reply, and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as she heard the menus being moved away slowly.

She opened them again and looked up at an old schoolmate. Pansy was standing over them, looking, if possible, even more nervous than they were. In fact, she looked downright terrified. She was pale, and her eyes were huge. Her mouth hung slightly open, and for a very, very long moment the four of them just stared at each other. Pansy stood frozen in place with fear as she glanced around nervously. It wasn't until her eyes met Hermione's directly that either of them spoke.

It was Pansy who swallowed heavily and confessed in a choked out whisper, "Your kids are here."

--

Thanks for all the reviews so far! I hope you're enjoying the story.


	16. Chapter 16

Hermione's heart stopped beating

LOST

Chapter 16

Still doesn't belong to me…

--

Hermione's heart stopped beating.

For a split second, she was positive that she died and then immediately woke back up. She stared at the woman in front of her.

"Your kids are here," Pansy whispered urgently. Then, with her face screwed up as though in pain, she closed her eyes and whispered, "I'm sorry," before disappearing into thin air.

The popping sound of her Disapparation snapped Hermione out of her trance, and she stared in horror at the space where Pansy had just been. Beside her, Ron and Harry seemed to be in as much shock as she was. She wasn't sure how much time passed with the three of them just sitting there silently, all trying to process the last few minutes' events wordlessly.

None of it seemed real.

_Pansy Parkinson. _She was the mastermind behind of all of this? Hermione couldn't believe it. She also couldn't believe that the bitch had just Disapparated like a coward without giving them anymore information _or _allowing Hermione time enough to beat her bloody brains in.

"We need to get to the back," Harry muttered, and Hermione looked over at him sharply. He met her eyes, and she could see something like fear reflected in them. It scared her to know that he was afraid. She wasn't one of those people who expected Harry Potter to be unnaturally brave and fearful of nothing just because he faced off with Voldemort. She actually knew him and, therefore, knew that there was plenty he was scared of. However, it terrified her to know that he was scared of this because she herself was so frightened and she could gauge Ron's expression to know that he shared her fright. Harry was supposed to be the rock at this point because she certainly could not, nor did she believe Ron could. Harry was supposed to be able to face this without fear.

"What's in the back?" Ron wondered out loud.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. But Rose and Hugo certainly aren't out here hiding under a table, are they?"

Hermione was gone before either of them could say another word. Gripping her wand tightly, she concentrated on her destination and found herself in what had to be a storage room behind the pub. She wasn't sure exactly where she was, but she made an educated assumption that she had succeeded in getting herself into the back of the bar. There didn't seem to be a sole around except for the rat that scurried off behind a shelf at her appearance.

Nearly simultaneous pops sounded behind her, and she turned around to see Ron and Harry staring at her incredulously.

"What're you playing at?!" Ron demanded, and she could tell he was angry. "Just disappearing like that!"

She did not bother to point out that she was not his child and, therefore, not within his authority of lecture. Instead, she ignored him and motioned for them to both shut up. Unmistakable footsteps could be heard nearing the room, and all three of them dashed to the same corner to hide. Of course, one corner was not quite big enough for all three of them, so Ron quickly ducked behind the same shelf the rat had just taken shelter behind.

The door opened with a heavy squeak, and Hermione held her breath. Was it Pansy coming back? Beside her, Harry held a hand out as if to halt any effort of movement. The footsteps sounded too heavy to be Pansy, and Hermione bent her knees just a bit to peer through a hole in the curtain beside them. She was right, they were too heavy. The person who had entered the room was a man, rather short and a bit plump. He was humming to himself merrily as though he didn't have a care in the world, and she watched for a short moment as he thumbed through some papers that set on the edge of a ratty desk across the room. She was drawn out of her trance, though, as a wand went flying from his pocket and skittering across the floor.

The man seemed to realize this, too, and he looked up, clearly panicked. He looked all around him in every direction. "Who's there?" he demanded, and his voice wavered in a way that made him sound, and look, remarkably like Peter Pettigrew.

"Who are you?" Hermione looked over to the shelf and saw Ron emerging from the shadows with his wand drawn and pointed straight at the man. She realized he must have silently disarmed him. Hermione started to move as well, but Harry grabbed her arm and shook his head firmly, his eyes narrowed and serious as he bent his own knees and peered through the same little hole Hermione was looking through.

The stranger turned at Ron's question and gasped as he saw him moving forward. He made to run to the place across the room where his wand had landed, but Ron was quicker and with a flick of his own wand, was pocketing the other one in his jacket. The other man froze and looked downright terrified as he looked first at the wand and then at Ron's face, which let him know in no uncertain terms that he was not in any mood for games.

"Who are you?" he demanded again, stepping even further into the room and closing the distance between himself and the other man.

"L-look," he stuttered nervously, "I don't know nothing, okay? Jus-just leave me alone, alright?"

Ron didn't appreciate the answer, clearly, and he moved even closer until he had the much smaller man backed against the desk. "You better find some answers real fast," he threatened, jabbing his wand into the man's chest dangerously. "You've got about five seconds before I lose my patience."

"Please," the man begged desperately, "I swear I don't know nothing! Just… just leave me alone!"

The repeat of the dodged answer seemed to infuriate Ron, and Hermione watched in horror as he completely abandoned his wand to the recesses of his jacket and shoved the other man backwards over the desk. His hands wrapped around his neck as he towered over him, and he pinned him completely from making any type of movement.

"I know my kids are here," he hissed, bending low over the other man's face. "And if you don't tell me exactly where they are, I'll kill you without a second thought."

Hermione couldn't help it, nor did she even realize it. She burst into tears on the spot. She started to push forward and through the curtain, but Harry grabbed her and yanked her back. He slapped one hand tightly across her mouth and the other around her body, pinning her arms to her sides and effectively cutting off any and all chance of her getting away. He was holding her so tightly that she couldn't move, couldn't even reach her wand to free herself. She struggled against him, but Harry just pulled her even tighter. He was hurting her, but he didn't seem to care. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but there was no sound as his hand was pressed so tightly across hers that she could hardly breathe. She wasn't used to this type of thing, and she was terrified to hear the sincerity in her husband's voice as he threatened to kill another person with little or no afterthought. Harry, it seemed, was quite intent on allowing him to do just that, as he sure as hell wasn't making any type of effort to stop it.

She wondered when they'd both become so cold.

"Where are they?" Ron demanded again, his voice low and threatening.

In a sudden flash, the other man suddenly started screaming, his voice high-pitched and terrified. "Monroe!" he shouted. "Help! Help! They're here!"

Hermione watched in absolute horror as Ron, in what was clearly a fit of blind rage, raised the smaller man up by the neck and then slammed his head roughly back into the wooden desk. The man yelped in pain and fear, and Hermione tried desperately to call out for Ron to stop. All that escaped, though, was a muffled cry that had Harry jerking her roughly and hissing in her ear to shut up.

Ron continued to make good on his threats as he slammed the man's head into the wood over and over again. Blood flowed from a puddle on the desk down to the floor, and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to watch as the man's screams became weaker and weaker and eventually died out. She opened them to see Ron lifting him one final time before flinging him to the floor carelessly. The man lay there lifeless in a puddle of his own blood, and Hermione truly felt her heart stop for the second time that day.

Somewhere in the back of her dazed consciousness, she registered Harry finally letting go of her. She collapsed to the floor immediately, her legs simply unable to hold her weight. She stared wide-eyed and shocked at the scene before her. In the same bit of dazed consciousness, she realized that she was no longer crying, that her eyes seemed completely unable of producing any sort of tears. Her whole body seemed to have shut down, and she just sat and stared.

It was not possible, she told herself, that she had just watched her husband kill a man with his bare hands.

But it was… It had happened. Ron, who she had loved for nearly her entire life, was not the man she thought he was. It occurred to her all at once that she didn't even know her own husband. The husband she knew would never have enough hate in his heart to make him capable of killing another man with no regards whatsoever for human life. He had no idea who that man was, nor did he know if he was telling the truth when he claimed to know nothing. And yet Ron, without a second thought as promised, had bashed his skull in and tossed his body to the floor without care.

This was not a part of him that she wanted to know, and she wished desperately that she could go back and never witness it. She knew, though, that this was not possible and that the memory would stay etched in her mind for the rest of her life.

Harry left her sitting in the corner and walked out to join Ron in the center of the room. Ron was wiping his hands on his trousers, literally wiping the blood from his hands. Hermione could say nothing as Harry kicked the limp form of the man on the floor, aiming his foot directly at the other man's ribs.

"You should have finished him off," he said simply, and Ron shrugged.

Hermione did not comprehend Harry's statement, but it seemed to snap her out of her daze all at once.

"What is _wrong _with you?!" she shouted to them both, pushing herself into a standing position without thinking.

They both started at her question. "Keep your voice down!" Harry demanded, moving toward her in what she guessed was an attempt to restrain her again. She was too fast for him, though, and she drew her wand out and pointed it in his direction before he could even blink.

"Stay away from me," she said seriously.

"Hermio-"

She cut Ron off as she turned her wand immediately in his direction. "Don't touch me," she threatened.

Both Ron and Harry stared at her in what was clearly shock. They didn't even bother to glance at each other, as both sets of eyes were trained directly on her. She backed away from them nervously, keeping them both within range of her wand.

"You're both sick," she muttered, disgusted. She felt like she was going to vomit. She was terrified of the emotions running through her, the way she was suddenly feeling about the two men in front of her who had been her best friends for nearly as long as she could remember. She'd never felt so much disgust for anyone before in her entire life.

"Hermione." Ron said her name clearly, as though either trying to brace himself or buy himself time to think up a better explanation.

She didn't give him a chance, though. She just stared straight at him, into the blue eyes she'd fallen in love with years ago and had only just moments ago realized were the eyes of a liar. "How could you _do _that?" she asked desperately, her insides twisting painfully. "How can you just kill a stranger like it's the most normal thing in the world?!"

"He's not dead," Ron said, glancing at the lifeless figure beside him. Hermione's eyes flashed to him as well, and she was surprised to see a slow, but steady, rise and fall of his chest. A bit of relief flooded her, but it wasn't enough to completely unnerve her.

"How can you be like that, though?" she demanded, and she realized her hand was shaking as she kept her wand trained on them. "You don't even _care!"_

"Hermione, this is our job," Harry said firmly.

"This is _sick!" _she cried, outraged. "You don't even know, he might have been telling the truth!"

"We're trained to know when someone's lying," Harry said, his voice calm and firm. "That man was lying. Otherwise, why would he have said, 'They're here,' when yelling for help?"

"Hermione, that man," Ron glanced once again at the body on the floor, his face one of disgust, "knows where Rose and Hugo are. He _knows _where our kids are."

Hermione found herself shocked yet again, shocked at the fact that Ron and Harry were so perceptive. She hadn't picked up on that statement at all, but she realized all at once that they were right. It didn't justify nearly killing him, of course, but she also realized that they dealt with this type of situation every single day. It was altogether unnerving, and she still wished she'd never witnessed it. However, she understood a bit more clearly exactly _why _they did what they did.

She was shaking all over as Ron stepped cautiously toward her. She slowly lowered her wand, feeling completely as though she were in some sort of alternative universe. She felt his hands on her waist and finally gave back over to the tears that had abandoned her moments before.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she buried her face into his shoulder. "He was yelling, we couldn't risk it…"

He was speaking quietly into her ear, and she knew he was telling the truth. There were just too many emotions that seemed to be flooding all of her senses. She was so close to her children that she could feel it, but she wasn't nearly prepared enough for what it would take to get them back.

"Look, Hermione," she heard Harry's voice and felt his hand on her back, much gentler than the last time he'd touched her. "Maybe you should go home. We can handle this…"

She didn't want to know how they would handle it, how many other people they would kill or nearly kill. She wanted desperately to be curled up in a warm bath without a care in the world instead of stuck in a dingy storage room with an almost dead man just inches from her feet. She knew, though, that it wasn't a possibility. These were her children.

"I'm fine," she whispered, wiping her eyes as she lifted her head and struggled to get her bearings back. "Let's just find the kids, okay?"

"I'm afraid that's quite impossible."

The last voice belonged to neither herself, nor Ron or Harry. Together, the three of them turned their heads toward the door to find four men blocking it. The four of them all had their wands drawn and pointed at the trio in the center of the room. Hermione didn't recognize any of them, but she felt sick to her stomach once again as the tallest of the men spoke again.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you. We've been expecting your arrival," he said with fake kindness. "I'm afraid, though, that we haven't been formally introduced. I'm Jackson Monroe, though your children simply know me as Monroe, of course."

--

"Check!"

Rose groaned and rolled her eyes as her younger brother smiled triumphantly at his move. The chessboard set up between them was nearly void of her pieces, and she looked at the few that were left and noticed that they were all staring at her as though they wanted to murder her. They all looked extremely put off by her severe lack of chess skills. It wasn't that she was _awful, _it just appeared that way next to Hugo who took after their father in the chess department. It bugged her to no end that she always lost to her little brother, and she pursed her lips tightly.

"You've cheated," she said simply.

Hugo gaped at her. "How could I have done?! You're just mad because you're stuck."

He was right. Rose had no idea how to remedy her current situation, and she begrudgingly made a random move that allowed him to win. "Checkmate!"

Rose shrugged her shoulders to prove that she didn't care, though she was secretly seething inside. She _hated _losing anything, especially when she was losing to Hugo. She started putting away the chess pieces, ignoring the taunts from her own set as they cursed at her for losing so easily. CC had brought them the chess set two days before after Hugo had asked for it. It had never occurred to Rose in all her time there to ask for anything. CC, though, brought them the game right away and asked if there was anything else they wanted. That was how they ended up with, in addition to the chess set, a deck of Exploding Snap, a Gobstones set, and a whole stash of Honeyduke's sweets.

"D'you want to play Snap now?" Hugo asked, placing the lid back on the box. He looked hopeful, and she knew he was trying to stay on her good side so that she would continue playing with him. It was the same way he always acted whenever Lily or any of the other kids weren't around and he had no choice but to appeal to her when he needed a playmate.

Rose, honestly, was reveling in the sudden bout of activities that had recently presented themselves. She had spent nearly two months being bored out of her mind, so she was happy to finally have something to do. Besides, Snap was pure luck, so if she lost, she didn't have to worry about having her pride hurt.

"Sure, get the deck."

Hugo jumped up and hurried across the room to where the stack of games and sweets were. He ripped open a chocolate frog with his teeth as he rummaged around for the Snap deck.

"What card did you get?" Rose asked half-interestedly as she watched her brother bite into the chocolate and drop the wrapping to the floor carelessly. He picked it back up and pulled the card back out.

"Harry Potter, Hero and Savior to the Wizarding World," Hugo quoted, reading the caption of the card with a mouthful of chocolate. He laughed and tossed the card to her as he dropped back down and started looking under the cot for the missing Snap deck. The card didn't make it all the way to her, so she raised herself into her knees and reached for it, sliding it back to her.

She picked it up and stared down at it for a moment. Her uncle smiled up at her and waved before casually brushing a strand of jet black hair away from his eyes. It was, of course, a much younger version of her uncle, taken when he was in his late teens and looking even more remarkably like Al than he did now. Rose, of course, had seen the card countless times her whole life, but there was something about it right then that struck a rather sentimental chord within her. She realized that she hadn't seen any of her family in a really long time. She wished sadly that Hugo had unwrapped one of her parents' cards, though she was sure they'd make her feel even worse than Uncle Harry's had.

"Found 'em!" Hugo said triumphantly, holding up the deck of Exploding Snap. He brought the cards over to where she was sitting, and she tucked the chocolate frog card into the pocket of her jeans.

Hugo decided he would deal and set to work passing out the cards between the two of them. Rose watched him quietly, reflecting on the very sudden rash of sadness that was filling her. She looked up, though, when she heard a popping sound and saw CC appear in the center of the room. She looked upset and a little bit as if she'd been crying. Beyond that, though, she looked rather terrified.

"What's wrong?" Rose asked, and Hugo turned his head to look and see what she was referring to.

CC shook her head quickly. "Come on, we've got to get you out of here."

Rose was confused, shocked. She had absolutely no idea what was going on. CC looked like she was about to burst into tears.

"Where are we going?" Rose asked cautiously as she stood up, something inside of her seemed to pick up, and she tried very hard to appear as though she weren't suddenly and inexplicably terrified.

CC looked at her sadly and then shook her head again. "I'm so sorry, love," she whispered.

"Sorry for what?" Rose was scared now. "Where are you taking us?"

CC sniffed loudly and whipped at her eyes hurriedly. She straightened up and looked at the pair of children. "Your parents are here," she said quickly. "You need to find them."

Rose didn't know what to say. She looked at Hugo who was staring at her with the same sort of clueless look she knew was reflected on her own face. Their parents? She didn't dare to believe it.

"Where are they?" Hugo asked quietly. She could tell by his tone that he didn't believe it, either.

"They're here," CC said quietly. "And you have to go with them. I'm going to get you out of here, come on."

She grabbed each of them by the hand, but Rose jerked away immediately.

"Tell us what's going on," she demanded, backing away from CC nervously.

"Rose, love," CC frowned deeply. "I'm sorry, I don't have time. You need to get to your parents."

"I don't believe they're here." Rose eyed her seriously as she casually dropped her hand to her side and brushed it over her pocket. She could feel her wand, and she was thankful she'd been keeping it on her.

"They _are," _CC said desperately. "I'm going to get you out of this room, and then you've got to go to them. If you see anyone else, _hide."_

Rose didn't know what to think, and she didn't believe for one second that her parents were really there. Every ounce of trust she'd had in CC seemed to disappear at once, and she was suddenly the most terrified she'd been in all the weeks that she'd been there. She started to reach for her wand, but CC grabbed her arm before she had a chance to move. A semi-familiar feeling filled her, and she felt as though all of her insides were being sucked out. A second later, she found herself in a corridor. She jerked her arm from CC's grasp, and grabbed her brother away, too.

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded, her eyes narrowed at the woman who had become her sole confidant. "Where are we?"

CC, though, offered no answers. She just looked at them sadly. "I'm sorry," she said again. And with that, she disappeared.

Rose had no idea where she was or where she was supposed to go. Furthermore, she had no idea what she was supposed to _do. _She was still holding Hugo's hand, and she felt it shaking in her own.

"Rose," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Rose, what do we do now?"

She was supposed to be his older sister, supposed to protect and take care of him and do things that normal big sisters did. She was suddenly sorry for every time she'd ever been mean to him or teased him or made him cry. Right now, she just wanted to rescue him and make sure he was safe. She had no idea how to do this, of course, because she didn't even know how to rescue herself.

"I don't know," she admitted.

With no other plan in mind, she started walking down the corridor, bringing her brother with her and keeping him close. If her parents were really there, they'd find them. If they weren't there… Rose had no idea.

A million thoughts went through her head as she led Hugo down the dark hallway. Part of her was more terrified of finding her mum and dad than she was of staying lost. She didn't feel connected to anyone anymore, and she felt extreme mixed emotions of guilt and contempt. A few minutes ago, she'd been happily playing a game of chess, and now she was in an unfamiliar corridor supposedly looking for the parents who had allowed her to stay missing for almost two months. She didn't know how she was supposed to feel, nor did she know what she was expected to do.

Reaching into her pocket and keeping one hand trained on her wand, though, she knew the most important task at hand. She had to, beyond all else, protect Hugo.

That was the only thing that mattered.

--

Thanks for the reviews!


	17. Chapter 17

Harry had been cornered more than a few times in his life

LOST  
Chapter 17

Still JK Rowling's….

--

Harry had been cornered more than a few times in his life.

He'd been outnumbered more times than he could count.

He had faced every imaginable danger head on.

But he had never been put in a situation where the life of any of his kids was on the line. Not that Rose and Hugo were _technically _his kids, but they were as good as. He loved them just like his own, and he would do anything in the world for them. The fact that he loved them so much might have explained exactly why he found himself frozen in place in fear. Everything in the world was at risk, and he had no plan and no clue what was supposed to happen.

Ron and Hermione were both within arm's distance, and he could see his own fright mirrored on their faces. He couldn't imagine how they must feel, being so close to finally finding the kids and then cornered almost immediately. Hermione looked like she was about to burst into tears for the second time in as many minutes, and he hoped desperately that she didn't. Her emotions seemed to be on overload lately, and he knew it was a mix of everything- the missing kids, exhaustion, fear, _pregnancy. _Still, though, he didn't want her to cry, not now. Having her burst into tears was probably exactly what the four men staring them down were playing at, and he didn't want them to have the satisfaction.

The tallest man, the one who had just spoken and introduced himself as _Monroe, _was smiling at them with an awful sort of ironic sort of grin. He looked almost excited to see them, and Harry wondered what sort of sick plan was going through his head.

"I must commend you," Monroe said regally, "on raising such bright children. Your daughter especially is smart beyond her years. I assume, of course, that you are extremely proud of her."

Hermione said nothing, just grew paler by the second and looked either as though she were about to pass out or as if she were about to vomit. Ron scowled and looked to be weighing the risk of trying to overtake four men at once. Harry sincerely hoped that he kept his wits about him and didn't do anything stupid.

Monroe glanced at the man lying on the floor. He was very much unconscious and was scarcely breathing at all, though he was certainly still alive. "I see that you've met our friend Geoffrey. I do hope he was nice to you," he said wistfully.

"What exactly is it that you want?" Harry posed the question before either of his friends could say something much rasher.

"Whatever do you mean?" Monroe asked coolly. "We haven't asked for anything."

Harry was losing his patience, and he wondered why no one had bothered to make a move at all. The four of them clearly had an advantage number-wise and should have been expected to at least make some attempt at ambushing… but no. No one had so much as uttered even a disarming spell.

"That's exactly my point," he said. "What do you want in exchange for the kids?"

Monroe laughed. Beside him, his friends laughed. Harry wondered what was so damn funny.

"Honestly," Monroe said, sighing away the last of his laughter, "do you really think we want some sort of ransom?"

Harry stared at him coldly, refusing to let on that he was intimidated. He was trained exactly for this situation, and he was determined to keep up the allusion of his calmness. "Why else would you kidnap two children and hold them hostage?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "If not for ransom, then what?"

"Technically, we only kidnapped one child. The other left voluntarily, if you'll recall."

Harry saw Ron twitch beside him, and he knew that they were nearing dangerous territory. If this bastard's goal was to get Ron so furious that he started making stupid moves, Harry wasn't sure he could fault him for the plan. He'd known Ron long enough to know that he was very rash when it came to emotions. He tended to act without thinking, and the plan, Harry was sure, was to play on those emotions and bait him into a trap.

"What do you want?" Harry asked again, slowly.

Monroe glanced at his friends, and they all shared a rather sardonic look. "I guess it's just that easy for you, isn't it?" he asked, his voice taking on a slightly colder tone. "You want something, so you just throw out some money and maybe toss in your name for good measure… then it just comes to you, right?" He raised his eyebrows. "Isn't that how it works for people like you?"

Harry didn't have any idea what he was playing at. Ron, though, seemed to have lost the last bit of patience he had. "How about you just cut the bullshit and tell us where the kids are before we kill you?"

He was met with a laugh, a light, sarcastic kind of laugh. It made Harry furious, and he could only imagine how it made Ron feel. Monroe just shook his head as though speaking to a child. "Such violence… It's so strange to think that someone that rash and violent could have possibly raised a child as intelligent as your daughter."

"You don't know _shit _about my daughter, and don't you fucking even talk about her!"

"I know enough," Monroe said simply. "I know that she is unusually smart for a twelve year old girl, and I know that she has a brilliant mind of her own. She's got quite interesting ideas, very different than what one would expect from a child raised by you lot."

Ron was seething. "Here's an idea for _you_," he spat. "You fucking tell me where my kids are and then you go fuck yourself while you fucking burn in hell after I fucking _kill _you!"

"If you're going to kill me anyway," Monroe raised his eyebrows, "then why should I even bother?"

Ron was finished at that point. Before Harry could stop him, he'd pounced on the other man, tackling him to the floor in one easy swoop. Monroe's wand went skittering across the floor as it fell from his hand, and Ron jabbed his own right into the other man's neck. Harry tried to rush forward to help but felt himself pushed back by an invisible force. He looked up to see one of the other men's wands aimed at him and saw the other two aimed directly at Ron. Ron either didn't notice or didn't care because he went straight into grabbing Monroe by the hair with his free hand and slamming his head backward in much the same way he'd done with the other man before. He was momentarily distracted, though, when his wand went flying out of his hand, and he looked up to see one of Monroe's cronies holding it successfully. Harry mentally cringed, wondering how Ron could make such an obvious mistake of not protecting his wand; of course, he didn't seem to care much for protocol at the moment, not when Rose and Hugo were on the line.

"You shouldn't have let that happen," Monroe gasped out, his eyes rolling dangerously from the impact of his head hitting the concrete continuously. "That was a dumb move…"

That was clearly the wrong thing to say, and Ron smashed his fist into the side of his face with such force that blood splattered feet from them. Harry started to reach for his own wand in attempt to get Ron's back, but he realized he was bound in place by invisible force.

"You didn't think we'd leave the Aurors unattended, did you?" the man aiming his wand at Harry asked sardonically.

"Or armed," echoed a second man, the one holding Ron's recently lost wand. Harry watched in horror as he held the wand up for show before neatly and effectively snapping it straight down the middle. After the sickening crack, he held one piece in each hand and held them up for show. "Oops!"

Ron glared at him, and Harry wondered what the hell they were supposed to do. He glanced at Hermione to see if she had any sort of plan. He expected to see her bound in the same way he was, but he realized with something close to elation that while they'd certainly taken care of the Aurors, they had supremely underestimated the lady in the room. She caught his eye for just half a second before whipping her wand in his direction freeing him from the invisible binds and then immediately, without so much as a moment of hesitation, running straight past the group of men blocking the doorway and disappearing into the corridor.

Every single one of the men she bypassed, including Ron, seemed so shock by the sudden events that a full moment passed before any of them realized exactly what had happened. During that moment of confusion, Harry managed to two of the three standing men and disarm the remaining one.

This was certainly a sudden turn of events…

--

Hugo honestly didn't remember ever being this terrified.

In his relatively short lifetime, he'd been scared plenty of times. He was one of the youngest children in his entire family, and several of the older kids seemed to live for scaring the smaller ones. They played mean pranks on them, intentionally scared them with made-up or exaggerated stories, and loved to trap them into dark spaces. He'd been scared of other things, too. He'd been scared of his parents, specifically his mother, loads of times- whenever he heard _that _tone telling him to go upstairs and wait, he'd always known he was in for it. And waiting alone in his room for his impending doom was certainly terrifying. He was scared of plenty of different things, including lightning, water he couldn't see the bottom of, and, of course, he had a crippling fear of spiders instilled in him by his father from a very young age.

At the moment, though, he was sure he'd much rather face a whole roomful of spiders than be stuck here, lost in random hallway after random hallway. He was sure they were just going in a circle, as he was positive they'd passed the same cracked way twelve times already. It was just awful. They had no idea where they were going or who was lurking behind the next corner. So far, they'd not run into anyone at all, but Hugo was positive that luck was going to run out soon. And he was sure that whoever found them creeping along in the halls was _not _going to be too pleased.

Rose was scared, too. He could tell this by the way she was fumbling with her hair. It was her "nervous habit," the one she always broke into whenever she was particularly dreading something. She was twirling curls over and over her fingers distractedly, and Hugo was positive she was never going to get her hair untangled. They weren't speaking to each other and hadn't in awhile. They were just walking, up one hallway and down the next. How big was this place anyway? Hugo had no idea, but he was getting tired of wandering and finding nothing. He found it hard to believe that they hadn't found so much as a window yet. Once they did, he was quite content to shove it open, hop out, and make a run for it. Of course, he didn't know if Rose shared his thoughts or not.

When they reached the same stupid crack for what seemed like the fiftieth time, Hugo finally stopped. He yanked his hand out of his older sister's and crossed his arms stubbornly.

"What are you doing?" she asked, turning around to hiss at him.

"I'm sick of walking all over the place and finding nothing," he said firmly. "We aren't going to find anything."

"Well, we've got even less of a chance of finding something with you just standing there!" she retorted, her hands on her hips in full lecture mode.

Hugo turned away from her and rolled his eyes. "This is _stupid, _Rose."

"The only stupid thing here is _you. _You're such-"

She stopped speaking mid-sentence when they heard a sudden noise coming from the other side of the corner. It sounded like footsteps, hurried footsteps at that. Hugo tried to discern if they were CC's, but he thought they sounded heavier, more like a man's. He almost pointed this out, but Rose seemed to have come to the same conclusion.

"C'mon!" she whispered quickly, grabbing his hand and dragging him further down the hallway. They reached the opening of a vent, and Rose pulled it open easily. Without a word, she started shoving Hugo into the opening, and he was too stunned to stop her. He turned around to look wildly at her, but she shook her head rapidly. _"Go!" _she hissed urgently. Hugo could hear the footsteps getting closer, so he did as instructed and slid himself further into the vent. He turned around to watch his sister enter, but he was shocked to see the vent sliding closed behind him.

"Out for an evening stroll, are we?" came an unrecognizable voice through the slats of the vent. "Now how did you get out here…"

"I was just…" he heard his sister stuttering. "I was just walking."

"Well, Monroe isn't going to be too happy about that, is he?" Hugo held his breath as he listened to the fake friendly laughter floating through the vent from the corridor. "Come along, little miss. I think we need to pay him a visit."

Hugo started to scream out to stop Rose from leaving, but he couldn't find his voice. He listened helplessly as two sets of footsteps drifted away. Without realizing he'd started crying, he felt tears streaking his cheeks. He was terrified. He hated the dark, and he especially hated dark, cramped spaces. On his hands and knees in a vent tunnel, he was positive he was going to die. He was too scared to go back out the way he came, afraid that the man was still out there or that there were others, so he started crawling along the tunnel. It smelled awful, and he felt his lungs struggling to find breath. He was crying openly now, scared to death both for himself and for his sister. He had no idea who the man was that had taken her or where they were going. He also had no idea where _he _was going.

He crawled for what seemed like ages, determining at last that there was no way out. His knees hurt, and his hands had blisters on them. The further along he crawled, the harder it seemed to breathe. He was miserable. Finally, though, after what seemed like an eternity, he spotted a tiny light in the distance. Filled with hope, he picked up speed and started crawling as quickly as possible toward the light. When he reached it, he saw that it was another opening. He peeked through the slats and determined that it opened into another hallway that looked exactly like the one he'd come from. What if really _was _a circle? He reached a hand up to remove the slats, but he stilled himself completely a second later when he heard footsteps. These were running, he could tell by the quick pace of their echo. Not daring to move, Hugo held his breath and tried not to make even the tiniest of sounds as the running got closer and closer.

He was surprised to see a woman fly past, clearly taking no notice of whatsoever of any children that might be hiding in the wall vents. It wasn't until a second later, though, that he comprehended _exactly _what he'd seen.

"Mum?" he mumbled to himself, his voice barely a whisper. His breathing picked back up, and he found himself suddenly panting as he snapped out of his momentary daze. "Mum! _Mummy!" _He yanked on the slats, trying desperately to get them unhinged, and nearly screamed with delight when they fell off in his hands. Stumbling out of the vent and into the hallway, he called after her once again. "_Mum!"_

The figure in front of him stopped short in her own tracks. Time seemed to move in slow motion as she turned around and stared at him. She seemed to be in disbelief, and for what seemed like a very long moment, neither of them moved. And then, all at once, they simultaneously broke into runs and headed straight for each other.

His mother was sobbing as she lifted him clear off the ground and buried her face into his hair. He wasn't embarrassed in the least and found himself crying as well as she cradled his head and kissed him all over his face. He wrapped his arms as tightly around her neck as they would go and decided right then and there that he didn't ever want him to let her go.

"Oh, _Hugo_," she breathed as tears spilled from her eyes and she hugged him even more tightly. "Oh, god…" She didn't seem to be able to form words, and he wondered if she was even breathing. "Where's Rosie?" she asked desperately, pulling back slightly and cradling his head gently.

Hugo was still crying, and he wondered if he was ever going to stop. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "Where's Dad?"

His mum looked at him sadly before shaking her own head and repeating his words. "I don't know…"

"Mum," Hugo found himself incredibly out of breath. "Mum, there's people here, and they're looking for us…"

"I know, love," she said quickly, nodding her head as if adding effect. "I know. C'mon, we have to get you out of here."

She didn't set him down as she carried him back toward the same direction he'd come from. They passed the vent through which he'd just escaped, and he wondered where they were headed. "Where're we going?"

"There's an old office back here," she said distractedly, glancing over her shoulder ever few seconds. "I passed it."

Hugo didn't know why they were headed to an old office when they needed to be looking for his dad and sister, but he realized the reasoning a few moments later when his mum ducked into an open room and closed the door tightly behind them. She set a locking charm to the door and then finally placed him on his feet. He glanced around, confused. There was nothing at all spectacular about this office. There was nothing but a rotten desk, some cobwebs, and a dusty fireplace.

He watched silently as his mother dug through the pockets of her jacket and finally pulled out a tiny cloth bundle. He recognized it immediately and burst into tears all over again.

"No, Mum!" he cried, shaking his head.

"Yes," she said firmly, divvying out a fair amount of Floo Powder. "You've got to go to the Burrow, you can't stay here."

"Mummy, _please!" _he begged desperately. "I want to stay with you!"

She looked like she was going to cry again, too, but she shook her head sadly. "You can't, love. You have to go. It's too dangerous here."

"Come with me!"

"I can't," she whispered, and he could tell she was wavering on the edge of desperation. Dropping down to his level, she brushed his hair from his eyes. "I have to stay and find Daddy and your sister."

Tears were welling in her eyes, and he let out a choked sob as she pulled him to her and hugged him as tightly as before. He buried his face into her shoulder and cried unabashedly as she rocked him gently and shushed him quietly.

"I promise that as soon as we find Rosie, we'll come and get you. Straight away, I swear."

He lifted his head and struggled to get his breathing under control, fighting desperately to stop the sobbing. "Mummy," he hiccupped, drawing in deep breaths. She looked at him, waiting for him to continue. Forcing a break in his tears, he spit the words out. "I love you."

His mother let out her own sob, and she fell forward, pressing her face into his neck as he stood straight and gently fingered her hair. She clung to him like her life depended on it for a very long time, wetting his neck with her tears as she cried and cried. Finally, she lifted her head again and rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands.

"Be brave for me, okay?" she asked, lowering her hands and looking at him urgently as she took his hands in her own. "Sweetheart, promise me, okay?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded as bravely as he could.

"And when you get to the Burrow, tell Grandmum and Granddad that Daddy and I are here and that Rosie is, too, okay? And then I swear, we'll come get you as _soon _as we can."

He nodded again, taking note of her instructions. He told himself not to cry anymore. He knew that it was making things more difficult for his mum, and he was determined to keep a stiff upper lip. His mother seemed to appreciate this, and she smiled at him sadly through her tears.

"I love you," she said so earnestly that he had never believed anything more in his entire life. "And I promise we'll come get you soon."

After another long hug, she finally released him. She tossed a handful of Floo Powder into the fire, and they both watched as the flames burned bright green. Taking a deep breath, Hugo stepped into the fire and turned around to face his mother. She gave a small half-wave and bit her lip as he closed his eyes and, as clearly as possible, said, "The Burrow."

--

Rose had never seen the man who was currently escorting her through the halls. Escorting her, of course, was putting it as nicely as possible, since he was more or less _dragging _her by the arm. She was struggling to keep up, and she wondered if he realized that his legs were much, _much _longer than her own.

"Who _are_ you?" she asked, not hiding the contempt in her voice as he yanked her toward another corridor.

"I'm a friend of Monroe's," he said, his voice scratchy and gruff. He had apparently abandoned all of the sarcastic friendliness he'd presented earlier.

"Where's CC?"

"If she's smart, she's far, far away from here," he laughed. "Considering I can't imagine any _other _way you'd be found wandering the halls…"

Rose groaned as they turned the corner into the next corridor. "_Excuse me," _she said huffily, "do you mind slowing down a bit? You _clearly_ have no concept of leg length versus width of stride."

He gripped her arm so tightly that she was positive her circulation was going to be cut off, and he seemed to drag her even more quickly.

"You need to learn some manners," she said, glaring at the back of his head.

He jerked her a little and turned to look at her. "You need to learn when to bloody well shut the hell up!"

Rose was about to retort that he was proving her point, but she shut up when she noticed that they seemed to be heading toward actual people. She couldn't tell what was going on, but she could see light streaming from a room and hear voices. She was about to ask who they were going to see, but she found herself suddenly being pulled forward with an arm wrapped across her chest and a hand placed tightly against her mouth. She struggled, trying awkwardly to yell but hearing only a muffled sound in response.

She felt her heart speed up, as was normal for anyone who felt imminently threatened. She tried to no avail to tug her arms free, but they were being bound tightly to her sides by his one. "You need to shut up," he warned seriously, his mouth close to her ear as he dipped his head to speak. She politely told him to fuck off and was disappointed that it came out merely as "mmmuhmeuwnnnmn."

She made a split-second decision, and without a second thought, she raised her foot and jammed it as hard as she could on top of his own. He gave a startled cry, and she took the brief momentary distraction as an opportunity to bite into his hand with as much power as she could muster. He yelped and instinctively released her as he wrung out his injured hand. Knowing she was about to break the law and not caring one bit, she reached into her pocket and drew out the wand she'd had hidden ever since Hugo arrived.

"_Stupefy!" _she cried, brandishing her wand at the man and relishing the bright stream of red light that shot out of the tip at her words. She watched with more than a bit of mild pleasure as the man fell to the floor unconscious.

Knowing that she did not have time to waste being too pleased with herself, Rose pocketed her wand once more and hurried as quickly as possible toward the exposed room. She kept as quiet as she could, knowing that making a ton of noise probably wouldn't be her smartest move ever.

Her breath caught in her throat, though, as she peeked around the edge of the door. Drawing herself back up straight, she stood as close to the wall as possible, praying she was out of sight and not daring to even breathe. Her dad was in there, along with her Uncle Harry. There were four other men, three of whom were on the floor. The only remaining man was circling her dad and uncle carefully, all of them doing what almost looked like some sort of weird dance.

She couldn't believe it. Her father really _was _here. CC hadn't been lying. He was here, and so was Uncle Harry. They'd come to rescue her. She didn't know where her mother was and forced away fear that she might be in trouble. She wanted to look again, mainly just to see her father's face. She realized with a horrible onset of heavy heart that she'd missed him terribly. As carefully as possible, she slowly peeked her head around the door once more. Almost as if on cue, a loud popping was heard that caused everyone in the room to jump with fright. Rose gasped as two more men Apparated out of thin air, both with their wands drawn. Rose watched in absolute horror as Uncle Harry's wand went flying into one of the man's hand, and she wondered where her father's wand was. Both her dad and her uncle let out a string of swearing, as if they'd both just noticed that they were totally and completely defenseless.

Without thinking, Rose acted primarily on instinct. She hoped quickly for three more rounds of good luck before rushing into the room and casting stunning spells in quick succession, rendering both the two new men and the other one immediately unconscious.

She stood stunned herself for a moment, not believing for a second that she had actually just successfully rendered a total of four men unconscious in a matter of minutes. She was breathing so hard she could hear herself, and she wondered how long she'd been that way. Her heart seemed to slow down considerably, and she looked around the room in complete and total disbelief.

Uncle Harry was staring at her as though he, too, was in shock. His mouth was slightly open, and he looked as though he didn't know whether to run across the room and swoop her into his arms or pass out. She flashed him a quick smile before turning to meet her dad's eyes. Everything inside of her seemed to start rushing, and she felt nearly ever emotion possible wash over her in a total of seconds. He was staring at her as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing, and she didn't have a clue what to say.

It didn't matter, though, because the second she opened her mouth to say hello, she felt a familiar pain in the back of her head. And once again, as had happened nearly two months before, everything around her went black.

--

So, I know there was a lot jammed in there, but you know how it is. Thanks to everyone who has left reviews, I'd love to read more!!


	18. Chapter 18

Hermione didn't want to let Hugo go

LOST

Chapter 18

Everything is JK Rowling's.

--

Hermione didn't want to let Hugo go.

As she watched him disappear into the fire, she felt a horrible sensation that made her think all of her insides were being squeezed tightly. She was relieved, of course, to know that he was alright- more relieved than she ever could have imagined- but she was also terrified because finding Hugo only accented the fact that she hadn't found Rose. And watching Hugo disappear in the flames, despite the fact that she knew he was heading to the Burrow and would undoubtedly be very safe there, made her heart break.

Taking a second to collect herself, she refocused on the task at hand and took several deep breaths to calm herself. Hugo was safe. Rose was undoubtedly somewhere close, even if she didn't actually have her in sight yet. She needed to hurry and find Ron and Harry again, rightly figuring that the three of them were much better together than separated. She'd let them know that Hugo was okay, they could find Rosie, and then they could all get the hell out of there.

She had a feeling, though, that it wasn't going to be that simple.

Holding her wand firmly in front of her, Hermione carefully pushed open the door and glanced into the hallway. She wasn't sure where she was, but she did know that every single corridor she'd crept through so far had seemed nearly identical to all the others. Figuring that if she went back in the direction from which she'd come, she'd at least end back up in the room where she'd left Ron and Harry, she headed out. She couldn't hear anything but the sound of her own breathing, and her footsteps seemed to echo loudly as she made her way back through the hallways. Her heart was still beating quickly, but she felt quite a bit better now knowing that Hugo, at least, was safe.

Words couldn't describe the immense guilt that had been smothering her over the summer. She'd felt horrible beyond comprehension over Rose's disappearance, knowing that, as her mother, she was supposed to protect her and make sure things like that never happened. When Hugo had run away, though, she'd felt even worse. She'd spent weeks coming to grips with the fact that she couldn't control Rose's disappearance. Someone had _taken _her, and as horrible as that was, there was nothing Hermione could have possibly done to change it. However, Hugo left voluntarily, and she knew without a doubt that he'd left because he felt neglected and brushed aside. That _was _her fault.

But she felt hopeful as well. Finding Hugo had meant that one-half of their mission was complete. All they had to do was find Rose and then they could all go live happily ever after. She refused to think that this wasn't going to happen. She was going to spend the night at home with her family, _all _of them sleeping safely in their own beds. Tonight. It was going to happen, and there was absolutely no way Hermione was going to let anything else happen.

She walked for what seemed like ages. She was scared, of course, to happen upon the scene she'd escaped earlier. She shuddered, remembering the fact that Ron's wand had been snapped. He was, as she'd witnessed earlier, fairly well able to defend himself using his hands alone, but she knew that hands were of no comparison to wands when it came down to it. She hoped he was alright. Harry was there, though, and they were used to working as a team. She reminded herself of this over and over as she searched for them, trying to calm her mind from racing out of control.

Finally, after what seemed like ages of walking, she spotted an open door. There weren't too many rooms lining these halls, so she was curious as to whether it was the old storage room. It was odd to think that this little sort of mad maze was hidden behind a pub, and she wondered if it had been specifically designed to be like that. She tried to creep as quietly as possible to gauge what, if anything, was taking place on the other side of the doorway. She realized how much easier this sort of thing had been when she was seventeen, more in shape, had less to lose, and, of course, had easy access to an Invisibility Cloak. She was shocked to hear what sounded like muffled crying coming from inside the room, and she gripped her wand tightly as she carefully slipped around the corner of the doorway and into the room.

Pansy Parkinson was leaning into a corner, her cheeks streaked with tears as she cried in what was obviously supposed to be quiet solitude. She jumped at the intrusion and immediately thrust her wand in front of her. There wasn't much light in the room, and it seemed to take her a second to realize who had joined her in the room. Hermione let her own eyes adjust to the dim light, and for a long moment, the two women stood silently, not moving, with their wands pointed in each other's direction.

Finally, though, Pansy lowered her own and looked away.

Hermione was initially quite confused. This was the woman who had kidnapped her daughter. Hermione expected her to attempt some sort of death curse or hex or at _least _some kind of disarming spell. But she did nothing. She just stood there and said nothing.

"Where's Rose?" Hermione finally asked, her voice low and threatening as she kept her wand levered in front of her. She stepped closer to Pansy and tried to remain cautious of the open door behind her.

"I don't know," Pansy replied quietly, brushing away the tears from her cheeks. "I brought them out and told them to find you."

"Oh, so now you want to _help _them?" Hermione asked back incredulously.

"I never wanted to hurt them. I didn't even want your son here at all."

Hermione could hardly believe her ears. She couldn't believe that this bitch could stand there and be so totally blasé about the entire thing. "Don't fuck with me," she said seriously, suddenly remembering exactly what it felt like to be seventeen and in the midst of a war. "Tell me where she is, or I swear you'll regret it."

Pansy didn't actually seem frightened. She glanced at the wand pointed at her chest and then back up at its holder. "I don't know where she is, so if you're going to kill me, go ahead and do it."

"I wouldn't give you the pleasure," Hermione spat. She hadn't felt so much hatred coursing through her in a long, long time. She'd grown up feeling disgust for the vile girl in front of her, but she'd never felt _this _much. Even at her very worst, Pansy Parkinson had been little more than a simpering, pathetic, lovesick puppy, constantly following Malfoy around in a shameless manner and making stupid comments that she obviously fancied to be insulting but that everyone else pretty much ignored. Now, however, she was a _kidnapper, _though still quite pathetic.

"Then arrest me or do whatever the hell it is you plan on doing," Pansy said, her voice rising slightly. "I don't fucking care anymore."

Hermione wanted to scream, she wanted to grab Pansy's head and smash it into the wall in the same manner she'd admonished Ron for before. She didn't, though. She just kept her at wandpoint and demanded answers. "Why did you do this?" she asked, gritting her teeth. "What the _hell _did you expect to come of it?"

Pansy rolled her eyes and looked away again.

"Answer me!" Hermione cried, losing her temper very quickly. "What made you think that you had any right whatsoever to steal my fucking _child?!"_

Snapping her head back 'round, Pansy stared her down, her dark eyes narrowing threateningly. "You don't know anything about your _child," _she said angrily. "You ignore her and spend every second of your life caught up in useless causes instead of paying attention to your daughter when she needs you most! I'm surprised you even noticed she was missing."

Hermione said nothing. Her throat constricted dangerously, and she fought back against the tears that were threatening to overspill. Pansy had hit a very sore subject with her, and she wanted desperately to pretend as if she didn't believe her. She couldn't, though. She couldn't because it was the truth. She was a horrible mother, and she knew it. She had never failed anything in her entire life until it came to something important. Her own daughter hated her, and she knew that it was all her own fault.

She loved her kids more than she'd ever imagined it was possible to love anything, but she knew she was crap at the mothering part. She was too hard on them, especially Rose. She realized now that she was often too busy for them as well. She hadn't ever meant to put her work over her family, but she was never the best at balancing different parts of her life. She wanted to go back and do everything over again, but she knew she couldn't. She couldn't because, she knew all too well, there were no do-overs in life. She couldn't revise and then do a retake. Life wasn't like that.

Dropping her wand back to her side, she turned to leave. Without so much as a word, she started walking dully back to the corridor.

"Wait!" Pansy cried, and Hermione was surprised to hear her feet following her across the room quickly. "Aren't you going to arrest me or something?"

Hermione slowly turned around, feeling nothing but sad and painful regret. "I don't give a _shit _about you," she said blankly.

Pansy looked taken aback. "Who told you where we were?"

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione answered, momentarily forgetting that he had requested anonymity in his tips. Hermione, though, didn't particularly give a shit about _him, _either.

She could tell, however, that Pansy very obviously _did. _She watched wordlessly as tears once again welled up in the other woman's eyes. She looked shocked and devastated all at once, and Hermione wondered how it was possible that she still harbored a schoolgirl crush after all these years. She didn't care, though. She didn't care about anything at that moment except finding her daughter and trying to make something right with her for once.

She left Pansy alone, not bothering to give her so much as a "fuck you" on the way out. She felt very emotionless all of a sudden. The brief euphoria she'd felt at finding Hugo was long gone, and she walked along blindly, thinking of nothing except for the fact that she was probably the worst mother to ever have children. It was ironic that she was pregnant at the same time she finally figured this out. Of course, her life had long been made of the stuff of ironies.

Ten minutes later, she stumbled upon the original room she'd run from. Her momentary spurt of hopefulness was dashed, though, when she saw the scene before her. The room was empty except for several unconscious men lying randomly about the room, all clearly the victims of cleverly aimed Stunning spells. Ron and Harry were gone, as was the Monroe man who she had rightly guessed to be in charge. She wanted to scream in frustration, but she didn't. She simply turned from the room and kept going. Her momentum came back a bit, and she broke into a run.

Frustration nearly overpowering her, she followed the corridor as far as she could until she literally ran into a dead end. Hitting the wall in front of her, she was snapped back to reality. Realizing that a random dead end made no sense, she immediately raised her wand and cast a revealing spell at the wall before her. There was a room on the other side, she knew this as soon as her wand confirmed her suspicions. There was no door, and she didn't think twice before concentrating and trying her best to Apparate into the hidden room.

She wasn't considered to be one of the most intelligent witch in all of Europe for nothing.

Upon appearing on the other side of the wall, she immediately went on the defense. She had no choice when she saw the scene laid out before her. Harry was there. Ron was there. _Rose _was there. The problem, of course, was that Rose was unconscious and Ron and Harry were both wandless. The only comfort she felt was that they appeared to be pretty evenly matched. There were no other people present except for Monroe- who, though he was now standing, appeared very much as though he was still quite wobbly and clearly not completely recovered from the attack he'd just endured- and one other man who had his wand aimed on Ron and Harry but didn't seem to be doing anything more. Her initial reaction was, of course, to run to the daughter she hadn't seen in nearly two months, scoop her up and fix whatever was wrong with her. She stopped short, though, when Ron yelled her name and shook his head.

"She's fine!" he said, motioning for her to stay where she was. She was in shock and watched as the man she did not recognize turned his wand on her.

"Leave her alone," Monroe ordered, his voice scratchy as though he were about to lose it. He looked at her, and she saw the other man's wand being turned back to Ron and Harry from the corner of her eye. "I'm glad you could join us," he said, almost friendly. "I noticed someone activated the Floo network. I do hope your little boy got home safely."

Hermione felt so much hatred burning inside of her that she was almost scared of it. She understood now how Ron had felt earlier, as she, too, had the sudden urge to murder someone. "Let my daughter go," she said, lowly and evenly as she took several slow steps forward until she was directly in front of Monroe and had her wand pointed straight at his chest.

"There's no need for anything rash," he said calmly, though she could see something flash in his eyes that she hoped was fear. She _wanted_ him to be scared, wanted him to be _terrified. _Mostly she wanted him to die.

"Don't _fuck _with me," she warned, narrowing her eyes. She was in absolutely no mood whatsoever to continue this game anymore. She was tired, and she was _over _it. Rose was right in front of her, and it was time for this to end.

At her warning, the other man apparently decided to go against Monroe's original orders and pointed his wand back at her, clearly thinking she was more of a threat at the moment than either of the men were. Hermione noticed that Monroe did not tell him to leave her alone at this point. She didn't care. She'd never felt as fully capable of causing severe harm to a person as she did at that moment.

"I'm sure you want to kill me," Monroe rightly observed. "Don't you think that might taint your image, though? You three are supposed to be the most celebrated heroes in our entire world, aren't you? Tell me, though, what did you ever do that wasn't based purely on luck?"

Hermione had no idea what he was on about, and she didn't care. "Give me my daughter and leave us alone."

"You get by solely on luck and then have everything in the world handed to you," he went on, and she knew he was talking to all three of them, not just to her. "You have money and fame and all sorts of privileges that other people who work hard every single day don't have. You have everything. Your _kids _have everything. You give them anything they want on a silver platter."

Hermione couldn't even follow him if she wanted to, and she definitely didn't want to.

"Rose, at least," he carried right on without waiting for a comment, "has begun realizing that there is a vastly unjust underlying to the social scale in which we live."

"Seriously?!" Ron broke in incredulously. "All this because you're hacked off about being poor?!"

Monroe glared over Hermione's shoulder at him, and she saw something else flash behind his dark eyes. "You know nothing about me," he snapped.

"And _you _don't know anything about us!" Ron raged back.

"Oh, I know plenty." Hermione saw that Monroe wasn't even _attempting _to be cordial anymore. "I know that _you, _Weasley, grew up with nothing and seem to have forgotten largely that you came from absolutely _nothing!"_

"I didn't come from _nothing," _Ron shouted back, clearly over the edge now. "My family might not have had a lot of money, but I had everything I ever needed, and so do my kids! So you're not going to stand there and spew bullshit and wallow in bitterness and try to make it seem like you had some sort of _point _to make when you went around stealing kids, you sick son of a bitch!"

Hermione almost didn't register what had happened until she heard the something hitting the floor. She looked down beside her and realized it was the random man who had been holding his wand pointed at her. Ron had knocked him out with a single punch. She also didn't realize what was happening until he'd already grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the way. Seeming to pull a wand out of thin air, Ron stepped up and jabbed the wand directly at Monroe's chin.

"I'm not going to kill you," he hissed. "You're going to Azkaban, and you can see how nice they are there. I'm sure you'll have plenty of mates who share your views on all this societal bullshit. You shouldn't have fucked with us," he went on, and Hermione glanced at Harry and saw him edging as inconspicuously as possible toward the space where Rose was lying, still seemingly dead to the world. "You should know that no jury in the world is going to take pity on you."

"It doesn't matter," Monroe sneered. "It'll all just prove my point."

"_What point?!" _Hermione was surprised to hear herself scream so loudly, and apparently so was everyone else. They all froze and looked at her. "You kidnapped our _daughter!"_ she cried, and she could feel tears start to well up again for what seemed like the millionth time that day. "You took her away from her home, and you _stole _her!"

"And she'll be better off for it," he shot back. "Because at least now she's been exposed to something besides her perfect little bubble. At least now she sees you lot for what you really are."

Hermione wasn't sure who reacted. She realized later that it must have been Ron because she was fairly certain she would have performed her first Unforgivable had it been her. As it was, he was merely Stunned and lay silently on the floor. Hermione stared at him in shock, unsure really of what to even do next.

So they just stood there, unmoving and not saying a word until finally Hermione couldn't take it anymore.

"Where did you get that wand?" She asked the question she hadn't had a chance to ponder earlier. After all, she'd been there and seen the wand get snapped in half.

"They broke that other bloke's wand," he said simply, looking around. "The one from the storage room. I had his wand, remember? They thought it was mine."

"Oh." She couldn't think of anything else to say. Finally, "I found Hugo. I sent him to your parents'."

Ron just nodded, though, he looked very out of it and distant. "Yeah, we heard. That's great."

"Are you-" She raised a cautious eyebrow, but he shook his head and shrugged at the same time.

"I'm fine," he said quickly. "Let's get out of here."

Hermione glanced over to Harry and saw that he had picked Rose up from the floor. She was still unconscious, and her head fell backwards limply, her hair splaying out beneath her.

"What happened to her?" she asked, reaching out to run a hand over Rose's flushed cheek.

"I think they Stunned her," Ron said, seeming to collect his thoughts as he reached over and took her from Harry. She murmured something but didn't wake up. Hermione noticed how very small she seemed when he was holding her, almost like she wasn't all that grown up after all.

She wanted to cry again. Shocking.

"How'd you find this place?" Ron asked, shifting Rose so that she looked a bit more comfortable.

Hermione frowned and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Luck," she admitted begrudgingly. "Like everything else apparently. What were you doing in here anyway?"

"Rose came in and started kicking arse." Hermione raised her eyebrows, but Ron continued right on. "Then this idiot appeared," he swung his head in the direction of the random man. "He Stunned her, then they dragged us all into this bloody room. I guess they thought it'd be harder to find."

Almost as if on cue, a popping noise sounded, and Pansy Parkinson appeared before them. Ron looked like he wanted to kill her, and he instinctively held Rose more tightly. Hermione just glared at her. Harry looked up from where he was examining Monroe and his friend and shared the glare. She said nothing as she stared back at them for a moment, but then she held up a wand. Hermione instinctively raised hers, but she realized a second later, that Pansy was holding it out in Harry's direction.

"I think this is yours," she muttered, looking at the floor. "I found it in the storage room."

Harry took it from her cautiously, standing up as he did so and not taking his eye off of her.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, refusing to look up from the floor. "I didn't really mean for it to go this far…"

"_Sorry?!" _Ron asked incredulously. "You're going to fucking rot in prison, too, you stupid bitch! Just like your friend here!"

Pansy glanced at Monroe who was lying unconscious on the stone floor. She said nothing for a moment and then nodded. "I know," she whispered.

And that was that.

Harry sent word for backup, and he stayed behind to make sure all the appropriate people got transported to Azkaban. From what Hermione heard, there was very little trouble. All of the men involved stayed unconscious throughout the majority of the capture, and Pansy put up no fight at all. She just sat quietly by herself and continued to stare at the floor. Ron and Hermione went straight to the Burrow and collected Hugo as promised. Whatever Rose was hit with must have been extremely powerful because even though Hermione could find nothing physically wrong with her, she stayed unconscious throughout the entire ordeal.

That night, though, everyone slept safely in their own beds.

Exactly as Hermione had planned.

--

Rose drifted peacefully in that happy medium between slumber and consciousness. She was quite comfortable and felt extremely warm, leaving her with very little desire to finally open her eyes and admit to being awake.

When she _did _open her eyes, she faltered for a moment in confusion. She thought for a second that she was dreaming, not really willing to believe that she was actually in her own bed in her own room at her own house.

She had no idea how she got there, but then she remembered that her parents had come to rescue her. And apparently they had succeeded. Her head hurt, and she winced as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Her throat was dry, and she felt like she needed to drink an entire lake to quench her overpowering thirst.

She really felt like she might fall over the second she pulled herself into a standing position. Her mind was swimming, and she couldn't quite comprehend all that had happened. She was home, but she wasn't sure she wanted to be. She had the sudden urge to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over her head. She had no idea what she was afraid of.

She didn't do it, though. The scratchy feeling in her throat overpowered her, and she sighed loudly to herself as she walked through her house for the first time in what literally seemed like ages. She'd been gone for much longer when she was at school, but at the moment, she felt as if she hadn't been in this house in years. Trying to be as quiet as possible, she tiptoed down the stairs and to the kitchen.

She was surprised, of course, to find her parents sitting up at the table, whispering to each other in the dark. They looked up when she entered, and she felt the breath catch in her throat as she froze. It made no sense for her to be so nervous, but, as she'd noted earlier, it felt like years had passed since she'd last been face to face with them.

Her mother stood up when she saw her and immediately walked over and hugged her. It was weird, she thought, to be hugged like that after so long. She wanted to relax into it and give over to the side of her that knew she should be happy to be in her mother's arms, but there was something nagging at her that wouldn't quite allow it. She felt like there was a barrier up between them that transcended all the way into the hug.

"Do you feel okay?" her mum asked gently, cupping Rose's face in her hands and tilting it up.

Rose nodded wordlessly, and she could see sadness on her mother's face. Clearly this was not the reunion she'd been hoping for, and Rose knew it was her fault. She didn't know _why _she was finding it so difficult to be happy that her parents finally came through and rescued her, she just was.

"Are you hungry?" her mum asked, almost hopefully like she was wishing there was something she could to make herself feel useful.

Rose shook her head and tried to say, "I'm thirsty," though it came out as more of a mumble than anything. Her mum had her a tall glass of water before she could even correct herself, though, and she found herself being ushered over to the table. She did not sit down as her mother did, but she did find herself being hugged by her father. She found it somewhat easier to relax into his hug than she had her mum's, though she certainly wasn't sure why.

"Is Hugo alright?" she mumbled against his shoulder, realizing she should have checked into his room to make sure he was okay before she came downstairs.

"He's fine," her dad said, rubbing her back gently. "Sleeping obviously."

Rose nodded. She felt done with the hug, but she also felt too tired to lift her head. "Is there really going to be a baby?"

Her dad actually pushed her up at that- well, he gripped her shoulders and lifted her up so that he could see her face. She glanced between him and her mum and tried to read their expressions. It was her mother who finally replied.

"Where'd you hear that?"

"I read it," Rose said simply, taking another drink from her glass. "In the newspaper." She stared at them and noticed that they both seemed a bit shocked by the fact that she'd been keeping up with the news. "So it's true then?"

Another awkward moment passed, and then finally her mum nodded. "Yes. It's true."

Rose didn't say anything. She wasn't surprised. She figured it was true anyway. She just stood there silently, feeling awkward and strange between her parents.

There was no clock in sight, but she stood there for so long that she expected the sun to come up at any moment. Of course, she didn't know what time it'd been when she woke up anyway, so there was no way to gauge that really. But it was a long time anyway; she knew that much.

Finally, after Rose felt she could stand there no more, her mum spoke up. Her voice was weird and cracked, and Rose thought immediately that she was probably going to cry. It sounded like the voice of a crying person at any rate. "Rosie… look, love-"

"I'm really tired," Rose broke in, terrified to hear whatever it was that her parents planned on saying to her. She set the nearly still full glass of water on the table and glanced between her mum and dad quickly. "I think I'm going to go back to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

She practically ran back up the stairs to her bedroom. She had no idea what was supposed to be so scary, but she found that she couldn't listen to their speech tonight. Not yet, not when she hadn't even decided whether she was glad to be home or whether she'd still rather be kidnapped and in a chilly, doorless room. Not when she hadn't decided who cared for her more- her parents or CC. She wondered, as she crawled into her bed and hid under the blankets, if CC was going to be in trouble. She didn't know how she felt about that, either. CC had been her friend, at least Rose was pretty sure they'd been friends. She'd taken care of both her and Hugo and had given them lots of attention and listened to them and actually _cared._

Rose realized, of course, that it was not normal to be feeling this way after being rescued from a kidnapping. She should be downstairs hugging and crying with her parents. She should be happy if CC was going to prison and thrilled to be home with her family. But she wasn't. And that wasn't normal.

But somehow, Rose thought that she'd probably never be normal again.

--

So I know that is probably not the reunion that most people wanted, but I think it's fairly normal for what she's been through. She has a lot of feelings to work out… She's a very angsty little girl, which is why I can't wait to get on with the sequel to this! (I love angsty teenagers even more than angsty children!) We're very close to the end now, so if you liked it (or if you hated it), please review!


	19. Chapter 19

Three days

LOST

Chapter 19

All property of JK Rowling…

--

Three days. Three stinking days.

Rose was counting down and getting very annoyed at how slowly time seemed to be passing. She just wanted September to arrive so that she could get on the Hogwarts Express and go back to school. She wanted to get away from home and pretend like the entire summer never happened.

She'd had to fight with her parents, of course, to even convince them that she needed to return for the fall term. They both seemed to think that she was somehow incapable of being well enough to return to what they apparently assumed was a rigorous schedule of work and social activities. They didn't seem to believe her at all when she told them that she was fine. They even asked her if she felt like she needed to "talk" to somebody. Rose was plenty smart enough to know that this was code for, _"We think you need to see a shrink."_

But she didn't.

She was fine.

And she'd be even _more _fine if everyone would just leave her the hell alone. She'd been home just over a week and was watching the calendar anxiously to make this last half week go by as quickly as possible. She was well aware of the fact that she'd missed out on nearly the entirety of summer hols, but she didn't even care. She'd go back to school immediately if it was an option. She just wanted to get _away._

As it was, though, she found herself lying lazily on Al's bed and staring at his bedroom ceiling. It wasn't the worst place in the world to be, she figured, as he was absolutely the only person in the entire universe that she could stand currently. Still, though, the Potter house was not nearly the kind of escape that she needed, especially with her parents and Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny just meters away downstairs.

Al was lying opposite her, feet to head. He was as content as she was to do nothing, it seemed, and she was glad of it. They mostly just laid there in silence, but they did talk randomly about seemingly mindless things.

"Know what Lorcan told me?" Al spoke up, his voice hinted of a smile.

"Hmm?"

"He said his mum told them that she wanted them to be in Slytherin because apparently there's a Pimper-Tongued Porgraff hiding in the dungeons."

Rose raised herself onto her elbows so that she could see her cousin's face. "What the _hell _is a Pimper-Tongued Porgraff?"

Al laughed and shook his head. "I've no idea. Lorcan said she's dead serious, too."

Rose shook her own head in disbelief as she lowered herself back down. "I'm sure she is… Why are they so _weird?"_

Al laughed again. "I dunno. I can't believe the twins are so normal."

Rose couldn't, either. Lorcan and Lysander definitely had the odds of normality stacked against them, judging from the madness of both their parents. They were surprisingly normal, though. They laughed at the ludicrous things their parents did and were always happy to share them with everyone else so that everyone else could have a laugh, too.

"I hope they _do _get put in Slytherin," Rose said, thinking it over in her head. "We need friends in Slytherin. Can't hurt to have inside information on them, can it?"

"No," Al agreed. "Especially if they know Quidditch secrets."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Everything in the entire world does not revolve around quaffles and snitches," she said, her tone wavering on condescending.

"It should."

She knew it was no use. Quidditch was the only part of school that Al enjoyed at all, and she knew there was no point in arguing about it. Especially when it came to Gryffindor versus Slytherin. She'd been at school for one measly year, but she'd learned very quickly that no other event for the entire school year came anywhere close to garnering as much attention and obsession as the stupid Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch match. So no, there was no point.

"My parents didn't argue last night," Al said out of nowhere. "Not at all."

Rose sat up and nodded slowly. "Well, that's good, isn't it?"

It was the first serious subject that their entire afternoon's worth of conversation had touched, and she was surprised that he even brought it up, much less out of the blue like that. Al's parents had apparently been arguing a lot. He didn't know why really, just that things were really testy and confrontational. He knew well enough, he claimed, to just stay out of the way and try to ignore it.

Al joined her in a sitting position, and he shrugged. "I guess." He looked away, out toward the window. "I don't know which is better- yelling or silence."

Rose didn't know what to say. She knew he was really bothered by it, probably because he wasn't used to hearing them fight that often. Rose, on the other hand, listened to her parents argue twenty-four hours a day it seemed like, and she had her entire life. It never bothered her, though. She always knew that it was never serious and that they'd always just get over whatever had them momentarily angry. Al, on the other hand, seemed to really think that his parents were in trouble.

"I wonder if they're going to get a divorce."

"They're not going to get a divorce," Rose said, shifting so that he had no choice but to look at her. "They're probably just both stressed out. I'm sure everything's fine."

He shrugged again, and she knew he wasn't going to comment back. He wasn't going to talk about his fear of his family breaking up because to talk about it might make it real. She wasn't going to push him, either. He had been the one person to _not _push her to talk since she'd been back, so she was going to afford him the same courtesy. It was only fair.

A tapping noise took their attention anyway, and Al got up to let an owl in through his window. Rose recognized it as a delivery owl, and she watched as her cousin deposited a bit of money into the bird's little pouch and took the paper that was clutched in its beak. Without further ado, the bird turned on its talons and flew away as quickly as it'd come.

"Why're you getting the paper up here?" Rose asked, scooting over to give him more room to sit down.

"Sometimes the owls get confused," Al shrugged and unrolled it. Rose moved over to read behind him. Her own parents had apparently canceled their subscription while she'd been gone, and she was dying for some news from the outside world. She expected the main headline to be about the French upset in the Quidditch World Cup final, but she was surprised instead to see familiar faces staring up at her from the top picture.

"Alleged Kidnappers Face Wizengamot for Indictment."

The pictures under the headline showed two people Rose had gotten to know rather well over the past summer. Monroe, of course, and CC. Grabbing the paper away from Al, she read the article quickly.

_A group of people who call themselves the Myters have been named as the prime suspects in the kidnapping of twelve year old Rose Weasley who disappeared in early July. Ten people were arrested last week after a tip led Aurors to an East London location where Miss Weasley and her ten year old brother were located. Nine men and one woman are set to face the Wizengamot Tuesday morning for indictment on kidnapping charges. Geoffrey Winger, Michael Adaminson, Michael Ellis, Andrew Coughlin, Barney Kippling, George Pinkston, Collin Johnston, and Eric Johnston are all facing the possibly of kidnapping charges but are expected to be tried for the lesser crime of accessory. _

_Jackson Monroe is named as the prime suspect in the case. Monroe, the owner of the pub where both children were located, is expected to be brought up on several charges and, if convicted, could face life in Azkaban. His girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson, formally Vandergaurd, is also expected to face harsher charges that could result in a lifetime Azkaban sentence for herself. Close sources say that Ms Parkinson attempted to flee the scene several times during the recovery but eventually turned herself over to Aurors voluntarily._

_More information will follow as it becomes available._

Rose didn't know what to say. She stared in horror at the words in front of her.

Life in Azkaban?

No. No, no, no, no, no, no. It wasn't fair, and she wasn't going to let it happen.

"This isn't right!" she near-yelled, jumping up and looking up at Al desperately as though he was somehow going to read her mind and know exactly what she was talking about. "They can't be doing an indictment already, they haven't even had time to prepare a defense!"

Al looked at her like she was crazy. He hadn't read the article, obviously, but he'd seen the headline well enough to guess what it was about. "Who cares?" he asked, shrugging. "You want them to go to prison, don't you?"

"No!" She felt like she was going to cry. "This is supposed to take a lot longer than this," she was brandishing the paper around madly. "Weeks, months even! Why is it already happening?!"

He was still looking at her like she was mental. "Your mom is practically in charge of the entire Law Department. Don't you think it's expected that they'd rush things a bit?"

Rose wanted to scream. "So she should get special treatment just because she works there?! Or just because she's some supposed war hero?!"

Al didn't say anything. He just stared at her like he couldn't figure out if she was being serious or not. The door to his bedroom cracked open, and they were both a bit shocked to see James sticking his head into the room.

"What the bloody hell is going on in here?" he asked, eyeing them both like he had just caught them doing something suspicious.

Rose stared at him, shocked for a moment because it was the first time he'd said more than two words to hear in the entire time she'd been back. Then she literally groaned in frustration.

"She's gone completely mental!" Al said, speaking to his brother about her like she wasn't in the room.

"I'm not!" she shot back, angrily. "Don't say that!"

"Whoa," James said, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind himself. "You need to calm down."

She almost punched them both but then decided it wasn't worth it. Shoving past James, she flung the door of Al's room open and raced down the stairs. Clutching the paper in her hand, she headed straight for the kitchen where she found all of the adults seated around the table. They all looked up at her, obviously surprised to see her bursting in so unexpectedly. Before anyone could say anything, though, she thrust the newspaper at her mother and demanded an explanation.

"What the hell is this?"

No one admonished her for her language or rude entrance. She assumed they were all too shocked to say anything. Her mother took the paper from her carefully and scanned the article.

"Did you know about this?" Rose demanded, hands on hips as she waited impatiently for her mother to finish reading.

"Of course I did," her mum said, confusion all over her face as she looked back up. Rose saw everyone else struggling to see the headline so that they could know what all the fuss was about.

"That isn't fair," Rose said fiercely. "They haven't even had time to get together a defense!"

Her mother shook her head, clearly confused beyond belief. "What defense, Rose? They're all guilty. They were all caught at the scene."

"And so that means we should just throw the law out the window?" Rose demanded. "He was so right about you!"

This got everyone's attention. No one spoke for a very long moment, and Rose realized during that time that James and Al had apparently followed her downstairs and were standing unmoving in the doorway. Rose paid them no attention, though. She was focused solely on her mother at the moment.

In return, her mother took several moments to compose herself well enough to ask in what was obviously a difficultly controlled voice, "Right about what?"

Rose couldn't believe she had really been born into such obliviousness. Was her family really so blind that they couldn't see what was right in front of them? Rose shook her head in disbelief.

"Everybody bends the rules for you," Rose said, completely exasperated. "For all of you!" She looked around at the rest of the adults wildly. "They shouldn't be facing the Wizengamot yet, they should hardly even be settled into holding cells yet! But no, because it's _you," _Rose looked pointedly at her mother, "they throw every regulation out the window and have them on trial within two weeks!" She knew they weren't _technically _on trial yet, but it was the principle of the matter.

"I am sorry, Rose," her mother said quietly, "if you think this is somehow unfair. However, what _I _think is unfair is when people steal other people's children away." Rose had never heard that tone from her mother before, and she was actually a bit frightened at its evenness. "Those people _kidnapped _you, if you recall."

"_Those people," _Rose shot back, doing her best to mimic her mother's tone, "cared a lot more about me than anyone else ever has. And what you're doing to them isn't fair."

She was gone after that.

She once again pushed past her cousins, though this time she didn't run to anyone. She slammed the backdoor as she exited into the yard. She wished that she was at The Burrow where there were lots of hiding spots that she could disappear to. Here at Uncle Harry's and Aunt Ginny's, though, there was absolutely nowhere to hide. They had a large backyard with lots of space, but it was much better suited to Quidditch scrimmages than it was a game of Hide and Seek.

She wasn't aware that she was crying until she felt tears dripping from her chin. She wiped at her eyes and her cheeks angrily as she stalked away from the house as quickly as she could. She didn't know where she thought she might go, but she just kept walking until she finally heard footsteps behind her. She did not stop, though, until a hand on her shoulder halted her from behind.

Without turning around, she knew that it was her dad.

"What?" she asked, not even bothering to hide the contempt in her voice as she crossed her arms over her chest and kept her back turned.

"Rose, I think it's time to go home," he said calmly. He didn't sound angry, surprisingly.

"I don't want to go home," she shot back, not even sure why she was lying. She _definitely _wanted to get out of there.

"I don't really care," he said, physically spinning her around so that she had no choice but to look at him. "We need to go home and sort all of this out."

Rose felt like screaming all over again. "There's nothing to sort out! If I'm in trouble for being rude to Mum, just punish me and get it over with."

Her dad let out a slow sigh and glanced away for a moment before finally placing his other hand on her shoulder as well. She looked up at him expectantly. "Rose, I don't know what happened while you were there, but… but those are _bad _people-"

"You don't even know them!" She was crying again. "CC took care of me every single day, and she really cares about me! And it's not fair, she's going to go to Azkaban for the rest of her life, and she didn't even do anything wrong!"

Her dad apparently realized that she was very near hysteria because he bent down to get on her level. "Kidnapping _is _wrong," he said gently. "Whether they were nice to you or not, they still broke the law."

"So?!" Rose rubbed furiously at her eyes. "You've broken the law before! And so has Mum and Uncle Harry and everybody else! But none of you ever went to prison because no one would ever dare do that to any of you! Just because Harry Potter _saved the world_, big fucking deal!"

"Look," he said seriously, and she saw his eyes narrow in what she almost paired as anger, "that _is _a big deal. You're too young now to understand that, but someday you're going to realize just how important all of that really was."

Rose rolled her eyes in total frustration and yanked herself out of her father's grasp. "I'm not stupid! I understand everything just fine! What _you _don't understand is that none of those people hurt me, and none of them deserve to go to prison! They care about me, they care about me a lot more than you or Mum do, and I wish I was still there with them!"

She surprised herself with that. She hadn't expected to say that, and she wondered where it had come from. It wasn't exactly a lie, but Rose hadn't exactly admitted it to herself yet, either. She was actually almost immediately sorry, especially when she saw the expression on her father's face, but she couldn't apologize. She couldn't do anything at all except burst into another bout of hysterical tears and start sobbing all over again.

God, why wasn't it September 1st yet?

--

The past week and a half had flown by.

Harry could hardly believe that it'd been more than a week since Rose and Hugo had been rescued. The time had been spent doing a flurry of different things. Everyone, of course, was attempting to help the children readjust to being back home, but there was a ton of other things that needed to be done as well. Harry had taken on the personal task of preparing all of the paperwork about the case for the Law Department. He wanted to make sure everything was airtight so that no loopholes could be thrown into the case when it went before the Wizengamot.

It had turned into an extremely high profile case, especially since the media was seemingly having a celebration over the fact that the children had been taken and held by one of their parents' old schoolmates. The stories that were showing up all over the place implicated nearly everyone in one way or another and twisted the facts to near obscurity. Harry was, of course, thankful to some of the gossip newspapers which clued him into the fact that both he _and _Ron had been involved in love affairs with Pansy Parkinson, leaving her, naturally, desperate and so mentally unstable that she took to kidnapping as a way of wounding her broken heart.

Harry was actually thankful that Rose had read _The Daily Prophet _article that had sparked her breakdown. If she _had _to read a news story about it, at least it was one of the more reputable ones. He shuddered to think what would have happened if she'd gotten hold of some of the other headlines. She'd reacted bad enough to the one she'd read- one of the much, much tamer ones.

As he finished cleaning up the kitchen that night, he still wasn't sure exactly _what _had set her off. He didn't want to pry and hadn't asked any questions when Ron and Rose returned to the house to get Hugo and leave. Hermione was already gone at that point, having left nearly immediately after Rose's claim that the people who kidnapped her and held her hostage cared more about her than anyone else ever had. Ginny had tried to stop her, but she'd insisted that she was fine and that she was leaving. And she had.

Ginny had worried nearly nonstop since then.

She'd almost immediately stated the claim that she needed to go after her. She didn't think it was safe for Hermione to be alone in that kind of condition, and she was worried she might end up making herself or the baby sick. Harry didn't think it was a good idea to pry, and Ron had shown up while they were arguing about it. Ginny begrudgingly agreed to stay out of it, but she'd made her brother swear to call her if they needed anything. It was nice, really, to see her so concerned about Hermione, it was almost like normal.

She continued to worry throughout dinner and the beginning of the cleanup process. Harry had finally told her not to worry about it and to go on upstairs, that he would take care of the rest of it. She seemed a bit annoyed but went anyway. He didn't know what was going on with them really. They were no longer fighting, and he was glad of it. He was sick to death of arguing with her _all _the time; it had got to the point where he didn't even know what they were fighting about most of the time. They'd stopped that, though now they spent the majority of the day not speaking to each other. It wasn't even as if they were giving each other intentional silent treatments- it was more that they actually really had nothing to say to each other.

It was beginning to become exhausting.

Harry put the last touches to the kitchen and then sat back down at the table to rest for a moment. He was _tired. _The days since Rose and Hugo had been rescued had been packed full of things that needed to be done, statements that needed to be taken, paperwork that needed to be filed, and people that needed to be questioned. He was glad that the indictment was so soon because the sooner this entire thing was over, the happier he was going to be. He felt like he needed a month or more to just lie down and _sleep._

He dropped his head forward into his hands and closed his eyes, just needing a break for a second before he went upstairs and suffered through the uncomfortable silence of his bedroom. He didn't even hear anyone enter the kitchen and assumed he was alone until he felt someone drop into the chair opposite him. He opened his eyes slowly and looked up. James was sitting with his arms crossed over his chest and chewing on his pinky nail.

No one said anything for a minute until Harry finally sat up and leaned back in his chair, expecting another fight. He was tired of _that, _too. He had done everything he knew to do to get through to James, but every attempt seemed like a dead end. It was horrible to say, but Harry was extremely ready for September 1st. James was looking at the table, not saying anything.

Harry decided to make the first move.

"Everything alright?"

James looked up, almost like he was surprised someone was speaking to him. Harry, on the other hand, was surprised when his son actually seemed to acknowledge his presence. He shrugged kind of nonchalantly.

More silence.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of awkward silence, James actually spoke. "So, is Rose okay?"

Harry wanted to believe that he was actually concerned about his cousin, but he also knew his son well enough to realize that it was just a nervous attempt at conversation. "She's fine, I think. She'll be fine."

"She went pretty mental, huh?"

"She's dealing with a lot." Harry frowned thinking about it. "It's a lot to go through, she's probably just really confused about a lot of things." The truth was that he didn't know _how _to explain Rose's behavior. She certainly wasn't as thrilled at seeing her family again as he had expected, and from what he'd seen, she wasn't adjusting all that well to being home.

James nodded, and they again sat in silence for a bit.

Then James, clearing his throat and obviously trying to appear as unaffected as possible, shoved his hair out of his face and said, "Well, I'll watch her, you know, at school. And make sure she's okay and stuff."

Harry felt something inside of him calm almost instantly. He realized all at once that things were okay between James and him now. Some barrier had broken with the brief and awkward conversation. There weren't going to be any apologies or any tears or any over the top displays of affection, but things were going to be fine. He nodded and pushed his chair back to stand up. "That'd be really nice, mate."

James just shrugged again, that same awkward shrug, and stood up, too. "Well, I've got to go finish my homework. I still have Potions _and _Herbology left."

Harry sighed and shook his head. "Get it done, James," he said seriously.

"I will, I will," James answered dismissively, grabbing a bottle of Pumpkin Juice from the fridge and heading back towards the stairs. "I've got three days…"

Harry watched him go. He wanted to be amused by the procrastination, but he was still a father and knew that the appropriate reaction, of course, was to be concerned and a bit annoyed. Still, though, unfinished homework certainly wasn't enough to displace his happiness at finally having a cordial conversation with his oldest child.

He followed James upstairs but, of course, went to his own bedroom. Ginny was at the desk, quill in hand and scribbling away furiously at something. She didn't look up as Harry entered the room, but he spoke to her anyway, determined to get over _this _as well.

"What're you working on?" he asked, walking over and standing behind her.

"Don't read over my shoulder. You know that annoys me," she said immediately. Then, still without looking up, she answered him. "I'm writing a letter to my editor."

"Are you ready to go back?" Ginny had taken a semi-impromptu leave of absence at the beginning of the summer, deciding that it was more important for her to be at home to watch over the kids, as everyone else was completely absorbed in finding Rose. She'd done it mostly to help out Ron and Hermione, he knew, and he appreciated it.

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I want to take over the court reporting. At least for now. I don't want anyone else covering this case and making up more lies," she said firmly. "It's upsetting everyone, and no one, especially Hermione, needs to read anymore of that bullshit."

Harry did not point out that Ron and Hermione had stopped taking the paper a month ago. He knew what she meant. The entire reason they'd stopped, of course, was the immense amount of rumors and horrible things that had been said about them. He also knew that even though they'd stopped subscribing to the paper that they were still exposed to the headlines nearly everywhere they went.

"And it's upsetting Rose," Ginny went on quickly. "And I'm afraid that child is never going to get over this. She's like a totally different person, and it's not fair. She shouldn't have to see all the crap the papers are writing. She should be able to look to something that's factual to get the answers she needs."

"But do you really think they'll let you?" He sat down on the edge of the bed and was surprised to see her turn around in her chair to look at him.

"If they want me back, they will. I'll go back to Sports when this is over, but I'm not going to work for a paper that continuously buys into the media circus that is destroying my brother's family."

She seemed very set in her decision, and Harry was almost mesmerized by the familiar spark that lit up in her brown eyes as she carried on passionately about her intentions.

"I think it's a good idea," he said honestly. "It would be really nice to read something true for a change. And you're right, Rose is going to need to know what's going on, and she shouldn't be reading some skewed journalist's point of view on what's happening."

Ginny nodded. "And if the damn _Prophet _wants to buy into all of that bullshit, then they can kiss me goodbye because I will _not _go back."

This was the real Ginny- the one who was passionate and engaged and fiery. This was the woman he was in love with, and it thrilled him to see a glimpse of her.

He knew then, too, just as he had downstairs earlier with James, that things were going to be okay. They weren't perfect, and they'd have to work on some things, but he knew right then and there that they could get back to normal. Things were better now. Things were really alright.

Saying nothing, he got up to go take a shower. Before he went, though, he dropped a kiss to her forehead, and she didn't shrug away from him.

Yeah, things would be fine.

--

So… one more chapter, I think! Please review!


	20. Chapter 20

Sometimes Ron had to fight pretty hard to remember how he and Hermione had ever ended up married

LOST

Chapter 20

Everything has always belonged to JK Rowling, and it always will.

--

Sometimes Ron had to fight pretty hard to remember how he and Hermione had ever ended up married.

She was, in total and complete honesty, the only person in the entire world capable of driving him completely insane. Things had been much simpler when he was eleven years old and could simply be _relieved _when she got angry at him because it'd meant she would stop talking to him and leave him alone- at least for a bit. At eleven, he had been very sure that she was the most annoying human being to ever grace the face of the earth, which was saying quite a bit as he _was _one of the youngest members in a family of seven children- two of which included Fred and George who were, by anyone's count, _excessively _annoying. But Hermione Granger topped them all. And he was perfectly content with being on the receiving end of her silent treatments.

Years passed, of course, but their arguing didn't subside much. They continued to bicker over any and everything, but their reactions changed a bit. By the time he was sixteen, Ron absolutely couldn't _stand _the silent treatment act. She spent much of that year not speaking to him or, which was probably worse, speaking to him only to say things that were meant to bother and belittle him. And it did- it bothered him a lot more than he ever wanted to admit back then. But obviously things changed. And here they were, still arguing all the time about everything, and it was sometimes very difficult to remember exactly how they managed to get to this point.

Ron hadn't intended to pick an argument when he brought the children home after Rose's meltdown. In fact, he'd imagined in his head that he would console her and that everything would be fine and that they could simply work everything out and make everything alright. Of course, he rarely, if ever, found that things worked as he imagined.

Rose and Hugo both immediately fled upstairs. Rose was still close to hysterics, and Hugo just seemed nervous. Ron didn't try to convince either of them otherwise and didn't argue when they both instantly retreated to their rooms. He didn't immediately know where Hermione was. She wasn't in the sitting room or the kitchen. The study was empty, as was their bedroom and both downstairs bathrooms. At first, he panicked a bit, thinking that perhaps she had an Apparition mishap or, worse, had done her own bit of running away.

He was about to call back over to Harry and Ginny's and see if maybe she had gone back there when he heard something from upstairs. It was coming from right above him, not from the other side of the house where Rose and Hugo's rooms were located. He followed the noise upstairs and soon realized the source of the sound was coming from the extra room at the end of the hall- the room that was to become the new nursery.

They hadn't done much to prepare for the baby yet, as there were still several months before the actual due date. However, they had moved a bit of furniture in and had discussed wall colors and that sort of thing. Ron was surprised to see a light coming from the room and even more surprised to see Hermione on her knees and scrubbing down the furniture with a spray bottle of cleaner and a sponge.

"What're you doing?" he asked cautiously, still standing in the doorway.

"I'm cleaning," she said pointedly without looking at him, as though it were the most obvious and normal thing in the world to be scrubbing down furniture the Muggle way months before the baby was even due to be born.

He debated whether to ask the next question, knowing, of course, that there was a fairly good chance that she would not appreciate it. In the end, though, he went against his better judgment and asked, "Why?"

Hermione snapped almost instantaneously. "Because I already screwed up two of my children, I'm not going to bring the other one into a dirty world!"

Okay. He realized he should nod and leave her alone. Still, though, he pressed on. "Hermione, the baby's not due for five more months…"

"Don't you think I know that?!" She glared up at him with narrowed eyes.

"You need to lie down." He didn't plan on giving her an option. She was clearly having some sort of crazy meltdown where she cleaned a lot and snapped at people. She'd already gone against the Healer's orders and been up and active for the last week and a half when she was supposed to be in bed.

"_You," _she said lethally, pulling herself into a standing position and glaring at him dangerously, "need to stop telling me what to do and thinking that you can order me around. Because you know what? You can't. And I'm not in the mood for any of this crap right now, so leave me alone!"

"This isn't good for you, and it's not good for the baby."

"Well, clearly _I'm _not good for the baby!" she snapped. "In case you haven't noticed, Ron, our children are happier off with kidnappers than they are with us!"

"That's not true," he argued. "Hugo is very happy to be home, it's just Rose who-"

He realized far too late that this was the wrong thing to say and watched helplessly as she burst into tears. Cursing himself for _still _being a complete idiot and _still _being a professional at saying the wrong things to her, he did the only thing he could think of to calm her. He hugged her. He half-expected her to shove him away, as she was clearly in a fighting mood, but she apparently didn't have the strength. She broke down even more and sobbed into his shoulder. Her was surprised she could break into hysterics that quickly, but he realized he hadn't seen her cry like this in many, many years. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen her sob like this. Her entire body was shaking, and he knew he had to get her calmed down or else something was going to go terribly wrong.

He tried to steer her toward the door, thinking that he could at least get her downstairs and to bed, but she wouldn't budge. He could, he figured, pick her up and actually _carry _her, but he somehow figured that would probably just make her angrier. So he just stood there with her until she finally allowed herself to be guided just slightly over to the rocking chair that was sitting in the corner. It was the same chair they'd had in both Rose and Hugo's nurseries, and it had been sitting in storage for the past eight years. They'd only brought it out of the attic two days before, but Ron was glad there was somewhere to sit in the room because he wanted to get her off her feet.

He sat down with her, and she still didn't remove her face from his shoulder. She was still sobbing uncontrollably, and he realized that it was probably going to be very difficult to get her calmed down. He rocked her gently like she was a child, and she just continued to cry. He wasn't sure how long they sat like that or how long it took for her tears to finally subside, but eventually they did and she was left simply breathing loudly but steadily.

"Are you okay, love?" he asked gently, trying to speak in a way that would keep her from snapping again and keep them from falling into yet another argument.

She didn't reply right away, and he stroked her hair while he waited patiently for her to answer. Finally, she seemed to get herself together well enough to speak, though she still didn't lift her head.

"What are we going to do?"

He didn't know exactly what she was referring to, and he was slightly scared to ask. Still, though, he prodded her gently. "About what?"

"We don't need another baby," she whispered, and he thought he heard a second hint of tears in her voice.

"Everything is going to be fine."

She shook her head, and he felt her shudder again with what he could only assume was a choked back sob. "I don't know what I did wrong…"

"Hermione, you didn't do anything wrong."

"My daughter _hates _me." She shook her head again. "I don't even know what I did…"

"Rose doesn't hate you," he assured her. "Those people _brainwashed _her. Or something, I don't know what happened. But she needs help…"

He'd come to that conclusion earlier that afternoon while he watched Rose break down into her own bout of hysteria. He'd known something was off with her from the moment they'd brought her home, but all of that had now been confirmed. There was something _seriously _wrong, and they were going to have no choice but to get her help and try to make things better.

"_We _should be able to help her," Hermione said stubbornly, and he knew she was past the point of reasoning.

"She needs a professional," he reasoned as gently as possible. "She needs someone who's trained to deal in that sort of thing." He didn't know when he'd become the sensible person in their relationship. She was normally the reasonable one who could make sense out of any situation, but apparently she was completely unable to work this one out.

"I just want her to be okay," Hermione whispered, sniffing loudly as though she were still holding back tears.

"I know you do," he assured her, running his hand over her hair once more, "and she will be. She just needs to talk to somebody who can help her."

He could feel her nod her head as it rested under his chin.

"C'mon," he said gently. "Let's go to bed."

And she finally allowed him to take her downstairs.

--

Rose was horrified.

She couldn't believe that she'd said any of those things to her parents earlier, and she wanted desperately to go back in time and erase the whole afternoon. It terrified her to think that she could say something like that without even realizing it- it terrified her even more to realize that she could actually _mean _something like that. At first she'd tried to tell herself that she was simply upset and emotional, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized it really _was _her unconscious wish to still be lost.

And that terrified her more than anything else.

Rose was practically as far from stupid as it was possible to get, so she knew that she logically should have been thrilled with the fact that her family had come to rescue her and that she was at home safe and sound with her parents and her little brother. She should be spending as much time as possible with them, laughing and picking out names for the new baby that would soon be there. However, despite the fact that she knew all of this, she still couldn't make herself feel differently.

Telling her parents that she'd rather be _kidnapped _than at home with them was one of the most horrible things she could ever imagine saying. It was _crazy. _She _felt _crazy. That scared her, too- the fact that she might really be going insane. Never before had she ever been in anything close to this sort of situation. She'd never really had to worry about much of anything in her entire life. She knew, of course, that this was due in large part to the fact that her parents were able to give her pretty much anything she asked for and definitely anything she needed. She'd found out a lot about herself in the time she'd spent in that doorless room waiting to be rescued. She'd realized that she was extremely self-entitled and that she was spoiled beyond belief. Her parents really did give her everything she wanted for the most part, and she pretty much expected to have anything she wanted without ever having to work for it.

And she realized what a horrible brat that made her.

Furious with herself, Rose was throwing things into her trunk in an effort to get packed and completely ready to escape back to Hogwarts. She was more ready than ever to go, and she wasn't sure she could even wait the few days that were left. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to face her family after the stunt she'd just pulled at her aunt and uncle's house. She was embarrassed. Not to mention, of course, very positive that everyone hated her even more than they normally did.

She didn't know how everything had gotten so messed up.

At the beginning of the summer, the only thing she'd had to worry about was how she was going to impress Robby Pinson and whether her hair looked better in plaits or all the way up. It seemed as though a billion years had passed since then, and she realized that she'd changed more than she ever could have imagined within the course of one summer. She wanted things to go back to normal, wanted to be completely carefree and oblivious again.

Instead, she was crazy.

She threw her textbooks and her school supplies into her trunk, not even bothering to stack them neatly. Her homework was finished, and she tossed it in as well. Quills, parchment, scales… She wished she had more to pack. Ripping open her closet, she began tearing clothes off of the hangers and tossing them into her trunk without bothering to fold them or sort them.

She looked up abruptly when the door to her room opened.

"Don't you know how to knock?" she snapped, narrowing her eyes at her little brother as he stepped into her room uninvited.

"I did," he said. "You didn't answer."

She didn't know whether to believe this or not. She _had _been a bit caught up in her thoughts, but she also didn't put it past him to lie about knocking and just barge right in. When he just stared at her and didn't say anything else, she pushed him.

"Yes?"

"Mum and Dad are fighting."

She stared at him, wondering what he was doing there. She didn't hear anything at all. "How do you know?"

"Because I heard them," he answered simply. "They're not anymore. But before. They were fighting."

Rose wasn't particularly in the mood to stand there and make small talk with her brother about pointless topics. "So what?"

Hugo sort of glared at her for a second and then rolled his eyes. "So nothing, I guess. I guess you don't care."

She didn't know what he was on about, and she just stared at him expectantly.

"They were fighting about _you," _he finally finished.

Rose didn't say anything. She hadn't heard them arguing, and she didn't know what they'd have to be fighting about- especially concerning her.

"Mum was _crying," _Hugo pressed on. "In the baby's room. She said she doesn't think they should have another kid."

"Well, maybe they shouldn't." Rose was shocked once again by her own voice. She almost slapped a hand over her mouth to keep more unwanted words from flying out.

Hugo stared at her like she was the worst person in the world, and she wondered if maybe she was. "You are so _mean," _he said, completely seriously.

Rose knew he was telling the truth. She really was mean, and she had no idea how she was supposed to stop being like that. Things kept flying out of her mouth without her even thinking about them beforehand.

"Leave me alone, Hugo," she said sullenly, turning away from him and going back to her packing.

"I can't even believe how selfish you are," he went on, completely ignoring her order to leave her alone. "Our whole family is screwed up now, and it's all your fault!"

She didn't reply. She just kept packing her trunk until he finally gave up on a reaction and left. When she heard him stomp back to his own room, she dropped the skirt in her hand and sat down on her bed. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine a scenario where things could possibly be as bad as they currently were. She literally felt sick to her stomach over it.

Was everything _really _her fault?

It had to be. She was the reason her parents were fighting, she was the reason her mum was crying, and she was the reason that her entire family was falling apart. It would be better for everyone if she had just stayed gone. She didn't know why they'd come looking for her. They should have just left her, then her family could just be happy. Her parents, Hugo, and the new baby- the one who was supposed to replace her.

Rose felt tears start to tug at her eyes, and she took several steadying breaths in an attempt to keep them from falling. She felt bad, felt bad that she made her parents so unhappy and caused them so much trouble. She was far from the perfect child she knew they wanted her to be, but she knew there was no chance of her ever achieving the level of perfection that was expected of her. She really should have just stayed gone. She imagined that if she were still away that her parents and brother would all be sitting down to dinner right now, smiling and laughing and discussing baby names. They wouldn't be yelling or arguing or angry.

God, she just wanted to run away.

--

Hermione woke up in a cold sweat. She felt as though she'd been drenched and was being shaken awake abruptly. She'd been dreaming, though she didn't particularly remember the details. She did know that it hadn't been a happy dream, as she woke up feeling depressed and worried.

Her bedroom was bathed in darkness, and her eyes took a few seconds to adjust. She could make out the shape of her husband lying beside her, could hear his deep breathing and occasional snore and could make out the rise and fall of his chest. He was very much asleep, and she'd known him long enough to know that he was definitely out cold. When he was sleeping that heavily, it took something close to an act of God to get him up.

Hermione's head hurt, and her eyes felt sore. It was the type of feeling native to waking up after crying yourself to sleep. She remembered quickly exactly what had taken place the night before, and she suddenly felt ill to her stomach in addition to the pain in her head and behind her eyes.

Having no idea what time it was, but rightly guessing it was still sometime deep in the middle of the night, Hermione sat up as quietly as possible and slipped out of bed. There was a chill floating in through the open window, a cool summer breeze possessing the room. She shivered unconsciously and reached for her dressing gown. Wrapping it around her, she padded quietly toward the bedroom door and exited into the hallway. She'd been waking up around this time every night for the past several, feeling the sudden urge to see her children and make sure that they were alright. As was normal for her, she headed up the stairwell and paused at the top. Hugo's door was cracked open- he kept it that way so that the light from the hallway could creep in without him having to admit that he was a tiny bit scared of the dark. Rose's door was shut fully, of course, as she had absolutely no problem with the dark and hated any sort of outside light or noise interrupting her while she tried to sleep.

Hermione gently pushed open Hugo's door and peeked her head in. He was sleeping soundly, his blankets all shoved away and discarded on the floor. She could tell from her place in the doorway that he was hot, as his face was lightly beaded with sweat and his hair was sticking straight up in nearly a hundred different directions. He always got so hot when he slept and nearly always discarded his bedcovers, no matter what the temperature. Satisfied that he was absolutely fine and safe, Hermione pulled the door back just slightly but made sure to leave enough of a crack for the light to sneak in. Rose's room was close, and she turned the knob to her door as quietly as possible, knowing that her daughter was a much lighter sleeper than her son and always at risk to wake up and be in a foul mood. She pushed at the door, glad that she'd fixed the squeak to nearly nonexistent. Her imagined scenario of poking her head in and calming her nerves, though, disappeared immediately when she looked over to the bed where her daughter should be sleeping and found it empty.

Panic filled her at an unimaginable rate. Raw fear froze her in place for a very long pause before she got her wits about her and hurried back down the stairs. Feeling like she couldn't breathe, she ran straight through the living room and toward the back door. This could not happen again. This _would _not happen again. She wasn't going to lose her again, she wouldn't be able to take it. She just wouldn't.

Her heart seemed to come a stop, though, as she ran through the kitchen toward the door and passed right by Rose who was sitting at the table with her head on her arms. An empty glass sat in front of her, and she appeared to be sleeping peacefully until Hermione let out a very relieved, "Oh, thank god!"

Proving that she really _was _a light sleeper, Rose sat up abruptly, initially looking terrified until she realized where she was and let out a slow breath of relief. She looked at her mother oddly for a moment before brushing several loose curls away from her face.

Hermione, in what was probably a fit of emotion mixed with out of control hormones, nearly burst into tears but settled instead on wrapping her daughter in the tightest hug she could manage with someone who was seated in a chair while she herself was standing. Rose felt stiff and was clearly confused, but Hermione didn't care. She was just so thankful that she was here and that she hadn't disappeared again.

"Mum," Rose mumbled, physically pulling back just enough to break the hug, "what are you doing?"

Her voice was heavy with sleep, and Hermione nearly ordered her back up to her bed to rest properly, but she found that she just couldn't at the moment. She felt every emotion imaginable running through her, and she realized all too late that she'd finally reached her breaking point. Surprisingly, no tears fell, but she figured that mostly had to do with the fact that she'd cried enough for an entire lifetime over the past couple of months. Instead, she grabbed the nearest chair, scooting it over until it was directly in front of Rose and dropping into it.

Rose looked halfway terrified and fully puzzled. She twisted nervously, and Hermione was reminded very much of Ron. They had so many of the same characteristics that it was almost a bit scary. Their tempers matched perfectly, and they both had extreme problems willingly expressing emotion, though they were both capable of literally _exploding _with all that pent up emotion when they reached a certain point. She could tell that Rose was fighting against something right then because she was shifting her eyes anxiously and fidgeting in her chair.

"Rose," Hermione began seriously, placing a hand on her shoulder and gently calming the shifting, "_please _talk to me."

Rose looked even more uncomfortable than before, though at least she was no longer about to lose her chair. Her eyes cast downward, and Hermione had to wait for several moments before she finally mumbled, "I'm sorry."

Hermione didn't know what she'd expected, but it definitely hadn't been an apology. "Honey, there is _nothing _for you to be sorry for," she said gently, moving the hand on her shoulder to cup her chin. "Nothing that happened was your fault."

Rose frowned, and Hermione thought for a moment that she wasn't going to reply. Finally, though, she looked up and met her mother's eyes. "I didn't mean what I said at Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's," she said quietly. "I don't want to go back."

Hermione felt her heart breaking, both because her daughter had been forced through so much and because she was now apparently paying dearly for all of it. Hermione could tell just by looking at her that she was totally confused and completely broken. Rose looked like she had no idea what she was supposed to be feeling, and Hermione wanted nothing more in the entire world than to just make everything okay for her.

"Rose," she said softly, "it's okay to be mad at us."

But Rose just shook her head and frowned even more. For the first time, she spoke up in a clear and somewhat urgent voice. "No, it's not, though. I shouldn't feel like this, it's not normal!"

"Rose-"

"I don't know what's going on!" Rose now seemed nearly terrified. "I just feel so _stupid!" _Tears spilled out of the corners of her eyes before either of them could even expect it.

Hermione grabbed her and hugged her tightly, and, for the first time since she'd been back, Rose relaxed into her embrace. Hermione had never felt more helpless in her entire life. She didn't know what to do or say, so she just simply held her and rocked her ever so slightly.

"I know I shouldn't feel bad for them…" Rose whispered. "But I do, and I don't know why…"

Hermione ran her hands over her daughter's curls and gently shushed her, letting her know that she didn't need to say anymore, that they would get through everything just fine. Rose _did _need help, and Hermione was going to make very sure that she got everything she needed. For the moment, though, she just held her tightly and let her cry. As grown up as Rose sometimes liked to think she was, she was still just a little girl underneath everything else. She was confused and scared and conflicted… but she was still just a little girl.

"I'm going to help you," Hermione promised sincerely. "And everything's going to be fine. I swear."

Rose nodded and moved just slightly so that she could wrap her arms loosely around her mother's waist. She was hugging her, and Hermione realized that it had been far too long since she'd just appreciated the embrace of her children. It had been far too long since she'd done a lot of things. But all of that was going to change, and _she _was going to change. Her family was together, and they were going to stay that way. She'd lost far too much time already.

She wasn't going to lose anymore.

--

A/N: So, it's not completely happily ever after, and Rose is still very much hurt and confused. But at least it's a start, right?

Anyway, thanks everyone for reading. It's been a lot of fun writing this, and I hope everyone enjoyed it! There is a sequel in the works that should be up very shortly… It's going to take a slightly different turn than this one and has a new writing style. We'll jump forward a few years, so to find out how everyone is coping with the future (and the new baby), make sure to check it out! I haven't settled on a title yet, so be sure and be on the look out. It IS coming soon, I promise.

Thanks again to everyone!!


	21. UPDATE

Thank you to everyone who read this story and especially to everyone who reviewed!

I don't know how to link the sequel from here (maybe I'm slow, but I can't get the link to work!) But it's definitely up and in progress. You can link to it through my name- it's called "Lessons Learned" and visits everyone three years later.

Thanks again!


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